Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on. Let me get this straight: you’ve worked in a cosmetic clinic?
But doesn’t that mean you’re a fraud and not practicing what you preach?
Sure, if you want to get nasty about it.
But I’d like to put this contradiction in terms to bed, if you don’t mind.
What is beauty, really?
Beauty is intrinsically linked to honesty; the deception of the disingenuous will always blow their own cover in the end.
Obviously, the definition of beauty extends well beyond our superficial ablutions (something I have a lot of time for, vanity being my favorite vice).
It’s who makes us feel beautiful.
It’s who helps us to help ourselves be better, open, honest versions of who we are.
Things and people and places that unlock the tiny, magical chambers of our hearts that so easily get sealed up and forgotten about.
I mean that.
It ain’t just lip service, ya’ll.
But, back to the accusation.
The Truth About Cosmetic Clinics
Yes, I spent 5 minutes working in a cosmetic clinic. And I hated it.
I love the beauty industry. Skin and products and health and science and creativity and personal expression and freedom and magic.
But every day I saw men and women coming in, desperate to become someone new. Someone they’re not. Trying to plump up their happiness with fillers and smooth over their problems with Botox.
Maybe you know someone like that.
Maybe it’s you.
And, of course, when the needle didn’t provide the seismic shift they were after, it was inevitably a short coming of either myself or the clinic. The hostility!
I’ve never known such deep dissatisfaction, and I’ve never had the emotional baggage of the world dumped so unceremoniously at my feet, expecting a permanent fix now now now now now.
The energy of that place, those people. Toxic. Not one tiny bit beautiful. I had no idea beauty was surrounded by so much fear, self loathing, doubt, and shame.
It’s a real blow, because I went to the trouble of training, and have all the enthusiasm in the world for this stuff, and yet, something was off. Off by miles and miles, in fact. Suddenly, being in the fully fledged cosmetic industry was distinctly hideous.
The Psychological Darkness of Beauty
Originally, when I set about pursuing this career path, I had a very idealistic mindset; I believed that if you pulled the trigger on something small, it would have the power to affect much greater change than the sum of it’s molecules, which could ultimately lead to more beautiful world all the way around.
You tidy up your bikini line, remove a mole or two, or gently lift an ageing jawline, and miraculously offer someone a fresh perspective and a shiny new bow of confidence to wear in their hair.
They in turn release the positive vibes, and the beat goes on. Sounds good, no?
Turns out, the equation is much more complicated than all that. It’s a balancing act. Very tricky.
Removing Mrs. Hove’s mole is not just about a radiotherapy device rearranging skin cells into a more favorable configuration.
It’s about her husband and the way he looks at young Sylvia at the market. And the way Sylvia looks back at him.
When Alice the librarian decides to have full Hollywood laser hair removal, it’s not just because she’s a kick-ass feminist with intelligent political opinions, who believes women should be able to handle their bodies however they please; she’ll never forget how humiliated she was when she lost her virginity at 16 to that Steven who thought pubic hair was disgusting.
So you see, really I needed to have gotten a degree in psychology before I got anywhere near this stuff.
Where the Mind Meets the Body
When someone came in asking to become Barbie, I never rubbished them.
It does makes me sad to think that people can’t just accept what they look like. That I can’t just accept what I look like. But deeper still, that the details we hold against ourselves are often just metaphors for far more sinister insecurities that a syringe is never going to touch.
Yet at the same time, I love the freedom and am fascinated by the process which brings people to seek physical changes.
I’m about as vain as they come, and certainly not above accepting a helping hand myself; I would never begrudge anyone whether they decide to go full throttle plastic or sun kissed hippie. I believe beauty is art, and firmly in the eye of the beholder.
So, the truth is, I’m a mess. I’m all over the shop and there’s no telling whether I like it or hate it or am confused or sad or tickled to pieces by all this beauty nonsense.
Creating a Beautiful Mindset
But, let’s get real kids. That’s what this is all about.
Most people want to improve the way they look, and my ethos is: life is short. Do it.
But DO NOT do it without asking yourself the hard questions first.
Are you running from something?
Hiding from something?
Is this a choice made out of fear and self loathing?
Can you back away and take an objective look at your motives? Can you honestly say you are making a decision from the right perspective? Do you have your beauty mindset in alignment?
Please, go forward with love and blessings. Your choices are sacred. Know yourself. I accept all.
But don’t get consumed by it.
Don’t expect it to change your pathological behaviors, make your blow up doll an actual living husband, or suddenly create time and space in a forever perfect continuum.
Beauty is full of psychological darkness, and we all have to explore ourselves deeply and honestly.
But if Botox is going to fill your balloon with a little happy helium, then fill away, my friend.
Finding That Balance
Our desire to be attractive is biological and makes a lot of sense.
I don’t think anyone should be punished for augmenting their looks, (although motives are an important factor to consider –Botox is jolly nice, but it’s not a marriage counsellor).
And I don’t think anyone should be vilified for keeping it natural, and just letting the wind blow where it may.
It’s all valid.
However, I’m over the artifice. Fuck off with the false pretenses and the over-indulgent selfies.
I’m over it.
If you’ve had a boob job, fine, but don’t pretend you were born with that much silicone in your body.
If you’ve had your lips plumped and your brows tattooed, fuck off trying to make everyone feel bad about theirs. You only reveal how insecure you really are, and that you wasted your money trying to convince yourself you were better than you feel.
I’m 100% cool with anyone who wants to enhance their beauty in any way.
Just leave the bullshit at the door.
Maintaining a Beautiful Mindset
Changing something about your appearance may be considered a confession of weakness.
Lack of self confidence.
Maybe it is. And maybe your choices offend others.
Or threaten them, even.
There’s an awful lot of hate out there.
But for me, it’s an opportunity to choose empowerment.
And that’s what I want from and for everyone.
Let’s create beauty for love. Let’s create a beautiful mindset that serves our highest purpose and those around us.
That makes you feel good and is inclusive.
Take back our brains because we smart mamas. Take back our bodies because we strong bitches. Take back our beauty because we own that shit.
Super-natural or super-glam.
Just be real about it.
Instead of approaching beauty with expectations for yourself and others, join me in choosing to sally up to it with a sense of curiosity.
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Tell me. Have you gone to lengths to change your bod into something that other’s see as unacceptable? Do you secretly want to be Dolly Parton? Have you had a procedure done that your partner doesn’t know about? Why? I want to know.