Promises of Beauty in a Bottle

I was shopping in the women's soap & shaving supplies aisle at Target when I overheard a conversation between a couple about my age, with a little boy of about two years old in their cart, and I couldn't help identifying a bit with what was going on. She was checking out the scents of various body washes, and wanted his input; he was keeping an eye on the boy and not paying much attention. She asked him if something was wrong, and he said no, he was fine. She asked was he sure, and he said the same again, and then she asked if he wasn't playing some mind-game with her acting like everything was OK when it wasn't. And I really felt bad for her, and pitied the guy, because as an outsider it was suddenly obvious to me that they just weren't on the same wavelength- in a way that I personally had experienced with my husband, who thankfully helped explain it to me. This guy was in his nothing box. (Go watch the video, it's a hilarious take on the difference between men's and women's brains. The nothing box shows up at 3:55.)

I couldn't help myself- as I scooted around to the other side of her to look at a different kind of shaving gel, I interjected,
he's just zoned. Men do that, he's fine. She responded saying, wasn't it alright for her to ask her man if he was OK? I responded, they just tune out, they don't get into shopping like we do. And he said thank you for the clarification! I could feel the tension ease up, and she went on smelling the soaps, one of which he said smelled like Laffy Taffy.

I don't know if I was reading too much of my own experience into her situation, but with the little guy in the cart and her indecision over the body washes, I suspected she was hoping to find something that would make her feel more like a beautiful, attractive woman (which she was, I believe) and less like a tired mother. So her man's opinion mattered more than he realized, because it wasn't just about soap for her. One of the surprises of motherhood, for me, was how beforehand people paid admiring attention to me- especially as it became more and more obvious that I was pregnant- and afterwards most of that attention was transferred to my daughter, that sweet, energetic creature with her bright blue eyes and bouncing golden curls.

So maybe she, like I, was tempted by the magazines and the cosmetics companies' advertising, that if she could just find the right product, she would be transported to a different place. Honestly, a hot shower and soap that smells great really can do the trick at the end of a long day dealing with a toddler. But that's not what will make us beautiful. The image the cosmetic companies are selling is a false ideal.

A friend shared a recent article where the author describes her caution in telling a little girl she was cute because she didn't want to risk teaching her that looks were more important than anything. Instead she recommends asking what the little girl is reading.

Now, I'm being proactive to keep my daughter from developing a princess complex, but I have no problem telling her she looks pretty. At two years old, it's one of her words for things she likes (along with 'nice,' and 'happy'), and mostly we use it for flowers. But I intend to teach her that beauty is far more than what we see in advertising: it's about kind actions, affectionate relationships, a good sense of humor, good grooming, and lively conversation, and it's present in her great-grandmothers, her disabled cousin, her immigrant friends, her pastor and sunday school teachers.