Podcast: Wailing On These Hoes

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Confessions of the "Au Naturale"

There is no end to the socially acceptable nonsense which begs me to reproach humanity on a semi-regular basis but what I find MOST irksome about you hoes is the fact that you insist upon being SO... DAMN... FAKE. From the tops of your heads to the soles of your feet, you people hide your identities beneath illusions of the wealth and beauty that you believe you cannot attain while being your truest selves. Of course, us women are the most committed to pretense as it relates to our appearance. We have Spanx, padded bras, weaves, wigs and every other ridiculous implement of aesthetic torture we can procure from our most trusted retailers. Of all the methods women employ to feign perfection however, the use of make-up might be the one that causes my inner feminist the most unrest.

I am and have always been unapologetically anti-cosmetics. I don't believe a woman should feel obligated to paint her face like a clown to mask her "flaws" for a society that really doesn't even give a damn about the individual. Not only that but the cosmetic industry thrives on the impossible demands of eternal youth and unchanged appearance that women are expected to live up to. My friends often try to persuade me by saying that "It's supposed to enhance your features" and all kinds of other buck nekked bullshit but I ain't buying none of it. Whether it is in the foreground of your thoughts or not, women wear make-up because from a very young age we are made to feel insecure about each and every one of our imperfections; as a result we are encouraged by our mothers, grandmothers, sisters and televisions to conceal those flaws by any means necessary. I could make bell hooks say "Bitch, chill" after listening to me prattle on and on and on about the subject of women and their inane yet sometimes rigorous daily routines born of insecurity and assumed inadequacy (whether they care to admit it to themselves or not). At first glance I would appear to be the most fervent espouser of being our most organic selves at all times free of doubt, but I must admit that lately I've been engaging in some intense inner battle betwixt my strong aesthetic values and my own self-image. 

It has always been so very depressing for me to see a woman who thinks so little of her aesthetic design that she doesn't feel comfortable just walking outside her door without the proper augmentation. I used to pity you hoes because of the simple fact that I wouldn't want to trade places with you for anything in the world. When I see some women without make-up on, I think to myself, "DAMN... if I looked like that in the morning I'd be laying on the Maybeline pretty thick my damn self. You look TERRIBLE. Bitch, you HIT." I figured being so horribly unattractive by the face must be hard which is why I have always been so proud of myself for never once having a desire to don my face with various rouges and mascaras and concealers and the like. My unflinching apathy toward make-up began to feel more like an affirmation of beauty than a principle. If I thought so little of my natural appearance the way most of you hoes seemed to, then I would be foaming at the mouth in Sephora as well; but I didn't so I wasn't.

To make a long story short: DeDeT has been giving some serious thought to wearing make-up. In fact I have just about decided that I am going to buy some. Have I actually bought any? No. Have I looked into getting any? Kinda. During the past year, I've been paying more and more attention to make-up and how it "works." I've been trying to figure out how to find the foundations and concealers that best match my natural skin tone. I've been paying attention to all the latest lines and brands. The whole while slowly dying because I know my growing curiosity was merely a subconscious acceptance of the fact that my looks were already beginning to wane at the tender age of 25. It would only be a matter of time before I looked old and washed out like so many others. Pretty soon men would no longer find me so fascinating and engaging. I would have no one to entertain my many charming quirks! Nobody puts up with ugly chicks who have head issues! This is common knowledge. A PRETTY girl, however, can get away with all kinds of eccentricities. In fact many men fancy these whims as bemusing and enchanting on an adorable morsel like myself. If I looked like a hag I wouldn't be able to get away with shit ever again! How could I live with no one to shower me with adoration?!?!

All that understood, I want to buy make-up today because of the fact that I feel SO FLAWED that I doubt that I could been seen as "beautiful" (or even mildly attractive) in my most natural state. My skin for no reason has taken a turn for the absolute worst and all my efforts to correct this disaster have yielded no result whatsoever. I need relief lest I lose my ENTIRE mind.

Now for the wailing...

Basically I've decided just to give up on everything I believe in regard to what it means to be a "real woman" because my reflection no longer upholds the facile ideals of beauty that I've secretly been clinging to all my life. True beauty MIGHT come from within but in what I have long perceived to be "the real world" the beauty that one can have on the surface is the kind that everybody has a boner for. With my insatiable thirst for attention and adoration, naturally I aspire to the superficiality which I have quite stupidly allowed myself to fall victim. If I had some GOOD sense I would thug it out sans the aid of artificial enhancements and perhaps develop a more resilient sense of self that would not be so easily capsized by such an unquestionably asinine affront to genuine human suffering like a bout of bad skin. If I was really so passionate about being authentic at all times, my definitions of my OWN beauty wouldn't be so damn hollow and petty. Somebody oughtta check me in the throat for being such a simple-minded slut.

Furthermore who's to say I was that I was even all that cute from the jump? Sure I've turned the head of many a simpleton but the substantial often passes me by. I'm rather intelligent, witty and charming and there's no way anyone could ever be bored around me but alas... I'm not very enticing to anyone of merit. Could my superficiality be that pervasive? Do you think the smart ones noticed? Duh, bitch. Of course they did which is why they kept it pushing. Anybody with some real depth could easily spot that shallow shit a mile off even if it is veiled by an impeccable vocabulary.

So I guess my question to myself is: Who am I really trying to impress with this assumed beauty of mine and why in the hell am I clinging so fast to all the witless delusions therein? Just stupid like dem'ohs I guess...

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