Lately, my guilty pleasure is watching “The Real Housewives of OC”. I know, it is brain junk food, but I find them fascinating. They are the real version of the Stepford Wives. As gorgeous as they are, their face is botoxed a little more every episode, to the point where it is comical when they try to cry. Needless to say nothing moves, and their cohesive love for the “Barbie” look, leads to all of them looking like they share the same plastic surgeon.
I actually grew up in the O.C and I can remember girls in my High School receiving boob jobs and nose jobs as birthday presents from their parents. This was normal to me, all girls with their perfectly curled hair. In Elementary School I had a friend who would write down what she wore everyday, because God forbid she repeat an outfit during the week. This is the way our minds function here. Looks are everything, and the closer you are to perfection the more beautiful you are. It was not until I moved to Europe till I realized there is another type of Beauty.
My first shock living in Europe was how most people have very few articles of clothing. They are very practical and have really only what is necessary. I was looked upon as this alien who has a million pairs of excess clothing and shoes. Another difference, is their lack of make up. Some girls wore no make up, but most girls even with make up on would look natural, and fresh. Fake eyelashes, hair extensions, fake nails are not as common in Europe as they are here. The girls in Europe celebrate their natural beauty. When I first arrived to Europe, my make up was flawless. I had about 5 products just for my eyebrows, and when I look back at those photos, I realize how I have changed. I am more natural now, and more comfortable in my own skin. I don’t have any desire of plastic surgery as I did in High School, and I do find my flaws as my Beauty points.
As a painter, I am currently painting my grandfather, and the wrinkles in his face are very interesting for me. These wrinkles remind me of facial gestures he use to do. When he would get mad at me when I did something bad, his forehead would crinkle in a certain way, people notice things like that, and they are part of your character. A face with no wrinkles when you are no longer 20 is unnatural and uninteresting to me. The motto here is looking 20 forever, but why? Imperfection is perfection, and perfection without flaws, is just not real.