girly girl.
There are two words that I’ve heard both men and women use to describe people who tend to have a little (or a lot of) fun with their grooming rituals: “high maintenance”.
I think it’s wickedly unfair that I get lumped in with the plastic surgery junkies, the people who take four hours to get ready each and every morning, and those who spend more money on clothes than Canada does on national defense (that’s actually not that hard…)
I’ve been accused of being ‘high maintenance’ strictly by virtue of the fact that I use more than a bar of soap and a box of baking soda to get myself together in the mornings. And I don’t think it’s fair.
There are those among us who view cosmetics as an affront to their natural beauty — for them, ‘product’ is not just ‘product’; it is a conspiracy aimed towards affirming a soul-killing sense of inadequacy in all of us, not to mention making us spend money on things that are no more necessary than another Paul Walker film.
Then there are those among us who simply don’t have the time or patience to invest in learning how to use the tools of the trade. Apparently, they have “more important things to do than fuss with that crap.”
My friends who fall into these categories often scoff at me when I apply lip gloss, or curl my hair. They wonder what kind of existential damage I am doing to myself by dusting on eyeshadow, or if the various lotions and potions I use are soaking a sense of false security into my epidermis along with aloe and coconut oil.
The fact is, I have fun with it all. I like being a girl. I like being a girly girl.
It doesn’t define me to my core by any means; I leave that kind of dramatic impact for things like integrity, honour, love, justice, and learning. But I do like to get up in the morning and spend a little time primping.
And I like things that smell good, and feel good — things that make my elbows less sandpapery; things that make my eyes less baby-birdish; even things that make my hair relax a bit and reflect the sun, rather than attract passing insects with a majestic web of frizz.
I am by no means ‘hot stuff’ — just another dorky chick. But I still enjoy it all.
I’m quite aware that all the high maintenance efforts in the world don’t cover up a black heart, and that a pleasing outside doesn’t guarantee a happy inside. I also don’t buy in to traditional notions of what is (and isn’t) beautiful.
I see loveliness in all manner of faces and places, and the existence of such rarely has anything to do with choosing the right shade of blush, or trimming your bangs just so.
I simply figure — since I’ve done (and continue to do) work on the insides of me — that perhaps I can fuss a little with the outsides if that’s what I like to do. It doesn’t make me shallow to enjoy having interesting colours, textures, and smells creatively applied to my own physical canvas.
From Summer 1996 to Summer 2005, I was in charge of a short summer getaway specifically geared towards single moms and their kids. It was much easier when my good friend Kristy came on board to co-direct with me from 2000 to 2005. She was the soul of organization, giving vital anchor to my last-minute ways.
It was an absolute labour of love for both of us, because it always felt worthwhile; the stuff that some of these women have been through would curl your toes, not your eyelashes. I loved their strength, their resolve, their devotion to their kids, and their ability to walk down a hard road alone.
Women are left single with their kids via a million different circumstances, but these women in particular had often come from tough places, and the break was one that they looked forward to all year.
For me, the key night at the retreat was a spa night that the female staff at our camp offered the moms. We’d do facials, massages, all manner of hair treatments, pedicures, and manicures — all in a setting designed for tranquility, with candles, good music, chocolates, frosty drinks, and bright, fragrant flowers.
We did it because most of them don’t have the time or money to do it for themselves, and we did it because it gave us an opportunity to touch them in ways that were healthy, joyful, affirming, and positive — especially when many of them had been the recipient of touches at some point that were just the opposite.
Some of them couldn’t wait to get a few inches trimmed from their locks, while others simply wanted the chance to sit still for a couple hours and let someone take care of them. These were not ‘high maintenance’ women, and they didn’t love the spa night because they felt ugly and in need of fixing up.
In fact, many of them had a level of physical confidence I would gladly take in exchange for every product I own.
No, they loved it because it celebrated the beauty that they already possess, and because it gave them a chance to revel in their own physical being for a few hours, before they went back to being sacrificial on a level I simply cannot fathom.
Often they would cry as someone rubbed peppermint cream into the soles of their feet, or ylang ylang oil into their shoulders. It’s wasn’t sadness, though — it was emotion born of connection, of affection, and of simply feeling good. Like a longer-lasting hug, or a directed caress.
It brought down walls, and it built relationships. It let those women know that we saw them, and that they were lovely in our eyes. Not because they had candy-apple red toenails, but because that is how they were made.
One of the women told me the second to last year that I ran the camp that, while she’d still come to the camp with her three little ones no matter what, she’d be sad if the spa night ever ceased to be a part of the week’s agenda.
When I asked her why, expecting her to say something about how much she loved the facials (her favourite treatment), she told me a story about brushing her grandmother’s hair as a child, and how that made her feel.
“I’d see her whole body relax, much more so than even when I would rush to hug her when I ran up the steps to her house. She’d close her eyes and sing a little song to me while I did it, and make me feel as though we were exchanging lullabies. I knew she loved those times, and it was wonderful to do it for her.
Certainly, she could have fixed her own hair, and done a better job, at that; I left knots in it all the time, and the big brush was awkward in my small hands. But it wasn’t about that — it was about giving her affection in an uncommon way.”
My own grandmother had a crown of curls that I probably would have snarled into oblivion if I’d gone at them, but I understood perfectly what she meant. And then she drove it home.
“You are teaching those young women to honour other women in a manner that is as old as history. It’s far more about the ritual than the result.”
Amen.
Quite frankly, I leave my house fairly often without a stitch of makeup, and I figure that a baseball cap is an excellent substitute for a hairdo if that’s what I decide works for me that day. But if I feel like rubbing some lotion into my legs, or putting on some mascara, or twisting my hair into a dark jumble of curls, I don’t think that makes me ‘high maintenance’.
And if it does, then so be it.
Because I know for a fact that I’m a damn good cake before I apply even a bit of frosting.
January 22nd, 2007 at 9:31 am
I think that sometimes, when we do up the outside, the inside feels better and more confident.
I mostly DON’T bother with the whole stuff anymore, but I used to. I still do, when I go somewhere and I want to look and feel my best. I don’t mind curling my hair (in fact, my hair is probably the one thing I’m pretty vain about, because I love the natural color of it and well, it’s pretty), and my makeup ritual is short but makes me look pretty okay.
I don’t think there’s a thing high-maintenance about wanting to look (and therefore feel) at your best, most self-confident.
To me, high maintenance women are those who spend all their time “looking good”, they are demanding and selfish, acting as though everyone-including the world-owes them something just for the privilege of being near them.
High-maintenance you ain’t. :)
January 22nd, 2007 at 9:48 am
I didn’t have my first not-at-home pedicure until I was 36 years old and had been a single mom for 16 years. I cried, completely overwhelmed. They’re still a treat, an indulgence I only rarely allow myself, but I smiled to think about the reactions of the women at the camp, what a thoughtful thing to do for women who are usually so busy trying to be everything they have no time to be still and no one to pamper them without an expectation of some kind being attached.
January 22nd, 2007 at 9:52 am
All hail the girly girls! And I mean those like you and I, not the vapid, image-obsessed creatures like Ms Hilton.
Yes, I like to wear makeup and nice clothes and yes, I have a great weakness for products but I also leave the house without makeup sometimes, and the things I do in my spare time, mountain biking and boarding, require me to wear a helmet that leaves my otherwise curly hair flattened to my scalp, body armour that grips in places that it just shouldn’t and leaves my face red from exertion or cold and everything just a little sweaty.
So it makes me laugh when my boyfriend jokes that I’m high maintenance. The boy doesn’t know he’s born.
January 22nd, 2007 at 11:10 am
I don’t really use many products and I rarely wear makeup but I totally get why people do…it’s fun.
Here’s a secret: I’ve been putting lotion on my entire body after I get out of the shower since I was 12. That is 16 years; you know I’ve got some soft skin. You know why I do this? My 6th grade teacher made fun of my dry knees one day in class..she actually pointed to them and said something. I don’t know if I should dislike her or thank her for teaching me to always use lotion (I guess I could thank her but perhaps tell her there might have been a better way to let me in on the secret of lotion than humiliating me in class.)
I am very brand loyal when it comes to cosmetics and toiletries. The products I do use have been with me for years and I always stick to sensitive skin type with no fragrance. I just like it better.
January 22nd, 2007 at 11:13 am
I love it, and I am totally with you. Hearing about those single mothers is so heartwarming. It made me think about my own mother and how her first spa visit was right before my wedding. We went together, and after we each had a massage I still remember her sitting in that manicure chair like a queen with this blissed out look on her face and she looked over at me and said, “Why did I ever wait so long to do this?” I’m glad that you could bring some of that into the lives of these deserving ladies.
January 22nd, 2007 at 11:52 am
Today is a day that I am without any frosting, simply because I did not get up in time to put it on or to do my hair. Some days, though, I LOVE getting all…well, girly! It makes me smile and feel good. My last year of university I got an apartment with three other girls that WERE NOT girly girls in any sense. At first they scoffed at the time I put into getting myself together-although it was never more than an hour-but by the end of the year they too had become girly girls! They saw the value in spending a little bit of time on yourself.
That spa night at the camp sounds like such an amazing gift. I am sure that each year you gained so much by being able to do it. I hope that they have continued the tradition even now that you are gone.
By the way…you ARE hot stuff! We all are!
January 22nd, 2007 at 12:47 pm
Your best post that I’ve read so far.
January 22nd, 2007 at 1:50 pm
“I know for a fact that I’m a damn good cake before I even apply a bit of frosting.”
Amen, Meg!
Very good insight into the mystique of being a woman and doing it simply because you like it and it makes you feel good.
You story of the spa day is wonderful. And I totally relate to the hair-brushing ritual. I did it for my mom, my daughter did it for me and her daughter does it for both of us. It is one of those wonderfully relaxing rituals that has been handed down for generations in my family.
Yes, I have been accused of being “high maintenance” too - but I just carry on my little ritual, which makes ME feel better. It is a confidence booster for ME. I like soft skin and an even complexion. I like to frame my eyes with a bit of mascara and shadow and add a dash of blush to my otherwise dead pale cheeks. I simply look better and more “alive.” And *I* simply feel better for it.
Women have been plastering, spackling and painting themselves since time immortal. It has been used both to attract others and to feel good about yourself. A bit of pampering is not high maintenance - but like you said, if that is the case, then so be it.
January 22nd, 2007 at 1:52 pm
Wonderfully touching. I always end up getting all misty-eyed after these posts!
My favorite moment: “You are teaching those young women to honour other women in a manner that is as old as history. It’s far more about the ritual than the result.”
Exactly. Thank you for reminding me! I’ll start planning my mother’s day gift now!
January 22nd, 2007 at 4:45 pm
That’s funny, because I don’t think of time spent in the bathroom when I hear “high maintenance”. I think of people who require constant attention from their mates. Heck, you could spend all day in the bathroom as long as you earned a living and didn’t expect me to, you know, help apply your eyeliner.
January 22nd, 2007 at 5:53 pm
You may be a “girly girl” — which is perfectly alright as long as your not 5-8 minutes late because of it – but your ( and this is just based on your blog entries ) not high maintenance. Those women you gave such a warm evening to, their children, and all children for that matter, are high maintenance. There are adults out there that require just as much attention. They are high maintenance, taking care of yourself and appearance could be considered considerate to the rest of us.
Just a thought
January 24th, 2007 at 4:24 pm
Really, what is it hurting? You’re not perpetuating some myth that women have to be cover up or change their natural selves to be better people. I guess I am a bit biased because I feel similarly about products (you know I love ‘em) but I don’t put on makeup for anybody but me.
I say do anything you can, short of hurting yourself, to make yourself feel a little more able to face the world. Lord knows, the smallest bit helps.