I can remember the thrill I felt when I received my first makeup. At the time(late '60's,) a television commercial was put out by the makers of a popular deodorant for women. The mother gave her daughter a lovely box with lipstick, powder, nailpolish, and of course, the brand name deodorant, nestled in a bed of tulle. It was a rite of passage every girl I knew envied and longed for.

My own rite of passage package was given to me for Christmas. I received a pair of bell bottom pants, a turtle neck pullover, a compact and a pale pink lipstick. I had everything the young modern girl needed to be sophisitcated and cool. I was 11 years old at the time. Suddenly I was too old for the Barbie dolls I'd been dressing, and began instead to attempt new hairstyles, and play with makeup.

I borrowed makeup from my friends, those who were lucky enough to have older sisters who unknowingly contributed to our growing fascination with our own image and dreams of womanhood. I learned through trial and error to apply these borrowed cosmetics, in poorly lit school bathrooms, jostling for a place at the mirror with about 20 other girls.

By the time I was thirteen, I'd graduated to the pre-requisite light blue eye shadow, a pale pink blush and lipgloss. That was as far as my mom was willing to let me go. Shell pink and clear nail polish were all that were acceptable. I bought and hid a compact of dry mascara in a dark brown, which I applied each morning after I arrived at school, and painted my nails garish colors that were removed promptly after the last class of the day.

I came from a long line of women who rarely put on makeup. Mama and Granny wore lipstick and face powder only on church Sundays. Grandmama wore Tangee orange lipstick and a deep olive face powder. More controversially, she also dyed her hair the same deep brunette it had been in her younger years, causing my other female family members to whisper behind her back. The women in my family simply were not comfortable with the image of a fully made up woman. To them, it smacked of loose morals and an overall lack of decency.

Yet the older I grew, the more makeup I wore. I made up my face to make up for my lack of self confidence. A shy, overweight, often lonely, girl who wrote poetry and felt overwhelmed with the desire to fit in, be womanly and keep a tightly held balance between decency and modernity. I proudly bought and used my first real lipstick after giving birth to my oldest daughter. I knew that moms always wore lipstick, and though I felt vaguely uncomfortable with my face at that time, I persisted in wearing makeup far older than I truly was.

Looking back, it is easy to see that the four different colors of highshadow, eyeliner, lipliner and lipstick, two shades of blush and mascara did little to raise my self-esteem as much as hide it. Instead of dreaming of walking naked in public, I often dreamed instead of showing up for important social gatherings sans makeup. A very revealing dream that was completely wasted on me at the time.

Many years later, after raising two daughters of my own, I am far more comfortable in the body I walk around in, both inside and out. My makeup is used to enhance only what I have been naturally given. A light wash of foundation to even skin tone, a liner and mascara to bring my eyes to life, and a natural tone of lipstick feels like my natural self shining through at last.

I've learned less is more, self confidence doesn't come within the magic bottles or advertising schemes of cosmetic companies, and true feminine allure lurks within the glow of self confidence and peace, two of the greatest enhancements yet to be bottled by anyone. Oh, and a great big smile, one that lights the eyes far better than any cosmetic ever shall is an absolute must!

Yes, it's true. I continue to be momentarily captured by advertising promising luminscent skin, less lines, transformations. As I've grown more sophisticated in my use of cosmetics, I am also becoming a harder sell. Now the product itself must be beautifully packaged, the eyeshadows blended into artistic color combinations that draw the eye, the lip and nail colors glowing with mica and gold dust. It is no longer a matter of appealing to the less confident self, it must appeal to the latent artist who longs to transfigure and be made over into a stunning creature, albeit one who now seeks comfort and ease, as much as beauty.

I suppose as I grow older I shall continue to use makeup to enhance the face I have been given and continue to grow into. But I don't think that I shall ever again see cosmetics as the sole definition of my womanhood. No woman should. We are such lovely, complex, beautiful creatures each in our own way and own rights. We are the image of Goddesses personified, in every shape, form, and fashion. And that is the best makeup we will ever be given.

(C)Terri Cheney 2003

About the Author : Terri, is owner and creator of PennyAnnPoundwise@yahoo.com, a weekly newsletter for a frugal simple life.