When I was single, I got a lot of flack for my makeup. Which I donned under my mother's supervision, mind you.
Women (it was very rarely men, they seemed to enjoy it) would make constant comments. Too much. Too strong.
Women (it was very rarely men, they seemed to enjoy it) would make constant comments. Too much. Too strong.
Which, of course, was the reason why I was single.
I will not deny that there were a number of dates that were horrified by my cosmetic choices. (They were also the guys who didn't believe in ironing.) Or there were some dates who liked my face paint, but were disappointed to learn that I had brains, too.
Oh, that was a reason why I was single, too. "Don't act so smart on a date," I was told, once even by a non-Jewish client.
Luckily, it wasn't an option for me to "tone myself down." I yam what I yam. And how am I to know what man likes what?
So I continued in my pink-lipped and big-vocabularied glory, poo-pooing the naysayers (with my parents' support) until the merry day that I met Han, who adores my Face and enjoys the brains that goes with them.
Since people like to blame, they will zero on in a quality that they happen to find personally objectionable and claim, "Hey, that's why you're single!"
In my case, my Sephora obsession was my crime. Even though these women simply chose other options for their Faces (that didn't suit them one bit, shudder), they needed to make their lives more orderly by pinpointing an obvious error and believe that "if only" the poor dear saw the horror of her ways, she would be wed by now.
A faulty presumption, indeed.
But I wasn't in the dating game just to get married. I was in that stupid, chaotic, exhausting world to find a life partner. Someone who would see me. Someone I could see. Someone I could be my natural self with, feeling safe and accepted.
Han's best friend's wife was told "she would never get married" if she continued in her quirky ways. Well, she did, obviously.
It doesn't say anywhere in the Gemara how we have to suppress our personalities in order to marry. It says Hashem has it all taken care of.
So be yourself.
I will not deny that there were a number of dates that were horrified by my cosmetic choices. (They were also the guys who didn't believe in ironing.) Or there were some dates who liked my face paint, but were disappointed to learn that I had brains, too.
Oh, that was a reason why I was single, too. "Don't act so smart on a date," I was told, once even by a non-Jewish client.
Luckily, it wasn't an option for me to "tone myself down." I yam what I yam. And how am I to know what man likes what?
So I continued in my pink-lipped and big-vocabularied glory, poo-pooing the naysayers (with my parents' support) until the merry day that I met Han, who adores my Face and enjoys the brains that goes with them.
Since people like to blame, they will zero on in a quality that they happen to find personally objectionable and claim, "Hey, that's why you're single!"
In my case, my Sephora obsession was my crime. Even though these women simply chose other options for their Faces (that didn't suit them one bit, shudder), they needed to make their lives more orderly by pinpointing an obvious error and believe that "if only" the poor dear saw the horror of her ways, she would be wed by now.
A faulty presumption, indeed.
But I wasn't in the dating game just to get married. I was in that stupid, chaotic, exhausting world to find a life partner. Someone who would see me. Someone I could see. Someone I could be my natural self with, feeling safe and accepted.
Han's best friend's wife was told "she would never get married" if she continued in her quirky ways. Well, she did, obviously.
It doesn't say anywhere in the Gemara how we have to suppress our personalities in order to marry. It says Hashem has it all taken care of.
So be yourself.
No comments:
Post a Comment