Those who know me, know that I am SOOO not into the make-up scene. I’m really just not. I like that it takes me only 25 minutes to get ready (when I skip blow-drying my hair).
So when I got a phone call from a lady I’d met when I was helping with Bible School asking if I’d like to come for a “Mommy Pampering Facial,” even *I* was surprised when I said yes.
I showed up at her beautiful house yesterday, sat down, and submitted to the face-smearing. I cleansed. I moisturized. I even foundationed. And then… I even submitted to the coloring…….. It wasn’t so bad.
The end of the smearing drew near and I decided to go ahead and buy some cleanser and moisturizer, and even some tinted moisturizer. I’d been using whatever gentle forms of soap we happened to have in the bathtub to wash my face, so I figured I might as well. She figured up the whopping bill, and I prepared to leave…
But she wasn’t done with me, yet.
No… Then she went-on to inform me that this was only the first of two face-smearings. The second would focus on ‘color.’ (This wasn’t enough color? Oh my….) And… by the way would I like to do a ‘party’ for this next pampering session?
At first I buckled… I thought, “She is a very nice lady… I should support her… Surely I could scrounge up a couple of people to show up.”
Then I thought of how *I* feel when invited to such parties. Often it is something akin to being a deer in headlights. My want to be supportive of my friend, generally gets the better or me and I show up and suffer through, feeling awkward all the while. Could I really force someone else to live through that?
So I hedged. I explained I wasn’t really comfortable with the idea. I explained that I still have a limited social network.
She pushed. “Surely there are a few people you could invite. You only need two people to get your special credit!”
I hedged some more, eventually even explaining my own feelings of discomfort upon being handed such an invitation.
She pushed more. She even began suggesting people I could invite–this woman who had known me for all of two hours–“I know you have a great church . What about–”
“I’M NOT COMFORTABLE WITH IT!”
She got very quiet, but pushed some more. “Maybe just one friend? Just one person that you’d like to spend more time with who needs a little extra pampering.”
*Thinking to myself–pampering? Excuse me… I did all the freaking work on my face here lady… And I don’t do makeup so I was not relaxed… This is pampering?!*
I relented. “Sure. I’ll find one person.”
I left… With a sinking feeling in my stomach. Now not only did I submit to one smearing session, but I had to submit to another one. AND I had to try to coerce someone else to do the same….
I felt weak. I felt small. I felt pushed.
I came home and deliberated. I tried calling different girl-friends wanting each of them to tell me that it was ok to call and cancel. That it was wrong of her to push me. That I didn’t have to do this out of guilt or obligation.
No one was home.
I got very quiet and listened to myself for once. And I realized… I didn’t need anyone else’s permission. The fact was, I didn’t want to go to another smearing session. The first had been nerve-wracking enough. I had gotten what I wanted out of the first–some new cleanser, and moisturizer, and even something to give me a little bit of a ‘made-up’ look once in a while. I didn’t feel comfortable trying to get someone else to come with me for an event that I was far from being completely sold on myself.
So why was I going?
I barely knew this woman. Why should I feel obligated to her?
And further more….. In a life that I know to be short, why spend time doing something that I don’t want to do only to please someone else?
In that moment I felt convicted–People-pleasing demon be damned. This was my life. And my choice.
I picked up the phone, and called the kind, but pushy, fan of face-smearing lady. She wasn’t home, so I left a message on her machine. I was polite, gracious. I thanked her for her time that morning, assured her I would call when I needed to order something. And I cancelled my appointment with her. Cancelled the party.
I hung up the phone and I felt….. Empowered.
It was such a very small thing but this time, in the battle between myself and the guilt-voice in my head, I had chosen myself.
And I have Mary Kay to thank for it.
***My Apologies to the many Mary Kay enthusiasts that I know will read this entry. Know that I do respect the company, and know the product to be of fine quality. I just simply am not a make-up lover…. And I needed to rise above the guilt-voice.***
***Make-up is only “smeary-stuff” to me. I find no problem with others using it, and often find it looks quite attractive.***
***And I, too, love the noble Platypus.***