I
recently read an article about the standard of perfection society imposes on
women. The article stated 100% of celebrity and model photos in newspapers,
magazines, and other medium are touched up.
State-of-the-art software performs magic on photographs.
Eyes soften, dark circles are eliminated, the chin trimmed and smoothed, facial
blemishes and imperfections disappear, and necklines vanish. That last one is
especially important as women of my maturity continue to mature.
Growing
up I was dismayed I was not the standard of perfection - tall, thin and blonde.
The blonde part could easily be rectified, but the other physical attributes
more difficult to remedy. Not that there is anything wrong with being
short and not thin.
I
want to be touched up too.
Not
just in photos. Whenever I go out.
But
I do not want to do the work myself. A recent study found women spend 474 days
of their lives applying makeup - approximately 3 hours 19 minutes per week, or
28.4 minutes a day.
When
I worked in an office I did not spend 28.4 minutes a day applying makeup. Maybe
I should have.
Celebrities take longer to put on their face before appearing in public. Katy Perry
admitted it takes 90 minutes to prepare her public face. It takes a makeup
artist over an hour to complete Oprah’s makeup. It takes an hour and a half to apply
makeup on women preparing for red carpet events.
Imagine
if a professional spent 90 minutes on my face. It would be a challenge, but I
believe magic could be accomplished.
Wow,
would I look fabulous!
Nowadays
I do not put on makeup before starting work in my office – my kitchen counter. I
do not apply makeup when leaving for the gym at the crack of dawn. My gym cronies
do not bother with makeup or primp in any way before sweating.
That
allows more time for the occasions I do go out in public. Although I doubt I
will ever spend 90 minutes, or 60 minutes, or 28.4 minutes applying makeup.
I
am thinking about spending the time I save smearing makeup on my face touching
up pictures of me. I can work on the lighting, eliminate flaws, and fix my
hair. Then anyone looking at the pictures – my kids, grandkids, and eventually other
family members long after I am gone, will say – hey, she was pretty darn good-looking!
Wow, I didn't realize I had all this extra time on my hands. Now I am bummed that I have no major life accomplishments to show for it. I do like the idea of touching up the pictures so future generations will think I was good looking, but what if I can't get to all of them? What if some one with an ax to grind is hoarding ugly pictures of me? This beauty thing is pretty futile.
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