I’ll admit I was in a rush this morning. I thought I had all the time in the world, but when I glanced at the clock I realized I should have already been in the car, but I had just stepped out of the shower. Oops! So I do what I always do in situations like this, I quickly braided my hair, and pinned it back. I thought it would keep me from entering my place of work with dripping wet hair for the hundredth time this year. I quickly threw on jeans and a black polo with my radio station logo on it, and was making a mad dash to the car with my 3-year-old in tow.
As I was talking to my daughter on the way to the babysitters, I glanced in the rear view mirror and did a double take. I noticed that my severe middle part and my twisted up braids reminded me of one of my favorite painter’s hairdos. Frida Kahlo.
If only I had taken the time to wear very large earrings and intertwine ribbons or very colorful flowers in my up-do, I would’ve really made a statement. As it was, I looked like a tired, makeup-less woman who rushed out of the house.
I arrived at work late, and felt very bedraggled. As the day went on, I realized a few things, the more I thought of Frida, the more comfortable I was without pulling my “emergency” cosmetic case out of my purse. My “emergency” cosmetic case has everything I would need to put on a full face of makeup. Everything from face primer to liquid eyeliner. I have regular and waterproof mascara. I truly have everything in there. I usually carry 12-17 lipsticks and glosses in my purse. I spent the entire day in just Burt’s Beeswax lip balm. The more often Frida flitted through my mind, the more I remembered her unique sense of style and confidence. No everyone thought she was beautiful, but I do.
I’m not saying that I want to let my eyebrows grow together, or I’m going to let my mustache grow in, but Frida was a strong beauty. What she had worked for her, and she knew it. She didn’t try and change anything, and the older she got, the more she embraced it and reveled in it. My stark hair style today was very revealing. It showed every blemish and imperfection on my face. It made my dark circles even darker. It even made my roots evident of need for a dye job. Strangely enough at the end of the day, I felt stronger. I don’t know why. Maybe I withstood the mad desire to make the real me look like what I want to wake up looking like, but take 20 minutes to accomplish with cosmetics. I don’t know? Maybe I felt stronger because I didn’t judge myself for being in public without makeup. I end up in public fresh faced quite a lot these days, but I always berate myself for it.
Having a Frida day was awesome.