A friend of mine, K, is a divorced mum just like me. I work with her. We earn similar amounts of money, we go through the same trials with our ex husbands, we struggle sometimes with our kids.
We are sisters in the sisterhood.
But the thing about K is this: she is beautiful. She has glorious long, dark, straight hair which she sometimes piles up, or pony-tails, or just leaves to frame her face. She has warm olive skin, dark eyes and a perfect mouth.
She has a voluptuous figure and wears dresses that show it off. And rightly so.
But what makes her complete is her smile and her warmth and her ability to communicate with everybody, on every level.
The tragedy is that, due to years of put downs and snubs and insults by her husband, she can't see it. Her self confidence, at rock bottom a couple of years ago, is being built up slowly by her current, loving partner. Eye make up is her 'mask' with which she faces the world; without it, she feels uncomfortable, small, unattractive. She's considering having her eye lashes dyed black (even though they are black already).
She doesn't need any make-up. She is beautiful.
So I wrote this for her. I am shit at poetry, but I thought I'd have a stab.
Poem for K
We are all born beautiful.
We may have jug ears, or crooked noses, or squinty eyes
But as babies
Our beauty is in our naturalness
Unfettered with make-up or surgery
Or even clothing.
But as we grow
We feel that we need to do more
To maintain our beauty.
Our cosmetics mountains grow at home,
Eyeliners rolling off windowsills
Bright mascara bottles litter our drawers
Hair removing cream stinks in our bathrooms.
Some people, devils, feed our need for masking
Our natural beauty.
Cosmetics companies, magazines, insecure boyfriends.
Dye your eyelashes black!
(Even though they are black already.)
Because you're worth it.
We don't need you,
Mineralized Charged Water,
Kate Moss Idol Eyes
Whipped creme foundation.
We might like some eye liner.
But the rest of you
Can fuck right off.