Natural Beauty is a Load of Crap

by nowmaddiesays

The phrase “natural beauty” is tossed around a lot.  It’s almost used as much as, “That’s what she said.”  And obviously it’s a compliment: in a world where girls spend so much time covering up their flaws and blemishes, who wouldn’t want to be told that they’re pretty enough without it?  I usually only wear blush, and I’ve been told I’m not too hideous to look at—do I have some natural beauty tendencies of my own?

Absolutely not.  And you want to know why?  Because natural beauty is a load of crap.  I’m going to dissect the phrase and over-analyze it to the brink of extinction.  Warning: you will probably be annoyed by the end of this blog.

At the route of the phrase, “natural beauty” is used to describe a girl that looks good without makeup.  If ever my boyfriend complains about how long it takes me to get ready before going somewhere (and he really shouldn’t—like I said, I usually only wear blush), I respond with, “We can’t all be natural beauties like yourself.”  But take makeup out of the picture entirely—what is natural about the average female?

I dye my hair.  There—I said it.  When I was 12 I got highlights and then when I was 16 I started dying it on a regular basis.  I have no idea what my natural hair color even is anymore.  I think I remember my mom saying once when I was 8 that I had a slight reddish tent to my hair (my grandpa was a full on ginger), but clearly it was mostly just brown.  Plain brown.  I dye my hair a color that the majority of the population thinks is natural (I’m fair skinned with a freckled nose—classic ginger stereotype), but this clearly takes me out of the running for being a natural beauty.  And most women will inevitably end up dying their hair at some point as well.

Speaking of my fair skin: I’ve been known to fake bake.  And I’ve purchased a few self-tanners in my day as well.  Being Italian, you would expect that I’d have gorgeous, olive skin, but no—the Irish genes won that war (and denied me the red hair I’ve always wanted—fate can be a cruel, cruel mistress).  Sadly once I left college, I didn’t have the time to tan naturally or the money to tan fakely (yay, new words!).  And let’s face it: my natural skin color isn’t all too appealing.  When you can play hide and seek and blend in with the sheets, you know you’re too pale.

Continuing on the skin front: I’ve always had very bad skin.  I got my first pimple when I was 9 and haven’t had a perfect complexion since.  I’ve been on just about every skin medicine under the sun (generic and name brand) to tame the beast that is my skin.  Clearly, I’m fighting nature’s wishes.  This further inhibits me from being a natural beauty because by not wearing makeup (the definition in its most raw form), people will see just how hideous my skin really is.  And finally, when the acne started to die down, the dermatitis came out.  Big, ugly, red blotches all over my face.  I found some medicine to fix it, which led to an esophageal ulcer.  Seriously, the things I’ve been through.  Too add more trauma to this story, my skin once got so bad that I had to get plastic surgery.

Yup.  That’s right.  Obviously I’m far from being a natural beauty when I’ve had plastic surgery.  I once had a cyst on my face.  It was ugly and hideous.  To make it go away, they gave me a cortisone shot to the face, which felt like a 500 pound man wearing golf cleats smashing my face.  It came back so much worse than before that the dermatologist said, “I’m not going to touch that—you’ll need to see a plastic surgeon.”  Behold the journey that was mine to beauty (warning: don’t look—it’s gross):

This thing was so gross it was making my friend Kelsey sad.  Not really, but this was one of the few pics I allowed to be taken with the growth on my face.

And here I am 1 week after surgery, scar present.

My body does not naturally look like this.  No no, I haven’t had more plastic surgery, but I don’t think it’s necessarily natural to workout 3 hours every day.  I often wonder what my body would look like if I just ate healthy and didn’t ever get on a treadmill.  The world will never know.  And yes, I admit that this final one was a bit of a stretch.

Lastly, I also alter my body hair—plucking and shaving things isn’t necessarily natural.

I could continue, but I think I’ve made my point.  By those standards, I think natural beauties are very hard to come by.


And just so you know: the reason I typically only wear blush is because my skin has become so sensitive that it gets very hostile and painful when I wear anything more.  If it weren’t so painful, I’d be laying on foundation and bronzer every damn day.