I Want to Be Beautiful

I found an article on CNN that really resonated with me. I'm talking my heart started racing, and tears came to my eyes. It had nothing to do with genocide, endangered animals, or the destruction of natural resources. It wasn't even a military surprise homecoming. So then what was this emotion about?

Plastic surgery. (Find the article here.)

Yes, that's right. I almost started weeping over elective cosmetic reconstruction. More specifically, the article was about Asian people (women and men) undergoing surgery to look more Western. As an adult, I understand that people come in all different shapes, sizes, and colors. I know that each one of us is beautiful in our own way. As a child, not so much.

Me-circa 3yrs old. Long before I knew how uncool,
then cool, looking Asian was.

I wanted to so badly to fit in with the other kids in school. I hated being different. I was a different color. My hair was different. My eyes. My nose. My face is flat. And I have a horribly dark mustache. No one in our tiny town looked like me. Add in the fact that math was a breeze, and I loved books. I was a magnet for bullies. The boys were not nice. (More about that here.)

I would see people on tv, in movies and magazines, and wish on every first star that I would wake up the next morning looking like them. Alas, it never happened.

When I hit fourth grade, I needed glasses. My nose has no bridge. Do you have any idea how hard it is to find glasses that fit a wide/round head with no bridge? It's ridiculous. Getting my glasses fitted usually takes about an hour. In addition to wanting to look similar, now I wanted a nose job just to make my glasses fit. I asked my mom for as much twice when I was younger. The first time she blew me off, the second time she told me we couldn't afford it. It's pretty hard to pay for rhinoplasty when you're forced to wear welfare glasses.

It was a teen tragedy back in the day, but I'm a lot better with my Asian-ness now. My husband is the biggest reason. My Asian features are some of what he loves most about me. My heart soars every time he boasts how happy he is that the girls have my bridge-less nose. Not gonna lie, my children are gorgeous. I make sure to tell them every chance I get. I don't want them wishing they were different from how they were born. It's a rough way to grow up.

So to the ignorant commenters on CNN's article, although the doctor used some superficial reasons that Asians want to look White, it was a little bit deeper for some of us.

I Love Y'all Just the Way You Are,

Beauty is Pain ... In More Ways Than One

My girlfriend, ML,  posted a blog today (here) about a horrific experience she had getting her eyebrows waxed when she was younger. And in the post, she asked her readers to share some of their awful beauty moments. I don't think there is a woman out there that can't think of at least one time (if not more than one) when she looked at herself in the mirror and thought, "What the heck was I thinking?!"

Just about everyone goes through middle school (and high school, and college, and adulthood for some) trying to figure out their identity. Where do you fit in? Are you a jock or a cheerleader? A nerd? A band geek? A drama weirdo? For girls, part of that identity crisis includes your look.

When I was in middle school, everyone started perming their hair. It was the 90s, what can I say? Well, to make a funny story sad, my family was poor. As in too poor to get my hair permed in a salon. So my mom and her friend thought it would be perfectly acceptable to buy a box from Meijer's.

My mom and her friend are Asian. At the time we had been in the US for about 10 years. I was the oldest child between both families. And definitely the oldest daughter. I have lots of thick, coarse hair. I was a guinea pig, to say the least, but I was so desperate for curly hair I let them do it. "What the heck was I thinking?!"

Four hours and about twenty "Oops!" later, my head was permed within an inch of its life. The end result was a frizzy (not curly) mess that left me looking like Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act. Needless to say, I learned my lesson. Home perms are a huge no-no. Again, we were so poor I couldn't go to a salon, which meant I was forced to endure my Asian-fro puff until it grew completely out. There were a lot of ponytails and french braids in that following year.

I vowed never again. I would never perm my hair again. Fast forward about seven years. My family had moved from Michigan to Iowa. I had a whole new circle of friends, including two attending classes at Faust Institute in Storm Lake. Yup, that's a cosmetology school.

Anyone that's gone to (or knows someone that went) cosmetology school knows that you have to do so many treatments before you can graduate. Yes, I did get another perm. I know, I said I never would, but I was older, wiser, and able to get professional advice as to the best way to take care of my hair.

But, that's not the best part.

My girlfriend needed to sign off on a wax. I thought, "hey, why not?" Not just any wax. I decided to get a bikini wax. That's right. A bikini wax at a school. In all honesty, my friend had recently witnessed the birth of my first daughter. So, there was no mystery "there." In order to get graded on the treatment, an instructor has to sign off that it was done right. Hah. An instructor was supposed to inspect my bikini wax.

When we were done, my girlfriend left to get the instructor. The instructor (Oh Helen, we love you!), instead of coming to check out my privates, hollered from the front desk, "Poon, are you happy with it?!" I yelled back, "Yup!" And my girlfriend got an A.

The things we do for beauty. And education.

What crazy/horrific things have you done in the name of the glam?

Happy waxing,