Helen Hastings scrapes below the face of the cosmetic industry
Makeup is a fact of modern life. You can’t escape it!
The cosmetics industry may help us iron out the wrinkles, but is it putting a crease in your mental health, writes Helen Hastings ©.
Recently as I walked down a local High Street, I observed a woman sporting the most ludicrous pair of false eyelashes I have ever seen. Now I’m not saying that they were too long, but there were ships out on the Irish sea that day that were trying to figure out why they had suddenly been blown five miles off course.
And there is also the current trend of eyebrows that are positioned so high on foreheads and with points of such samurai warrior precision that the International Space station has them on their list of concerns.
Then there’s the lip fillers that resemble stapled on salmon fillets, the natural expression stealing Botox and not forgetting the make-up contouring that turns ordinary cheek bones into dark slices of mysterious mineral matter.
Another grave concern is the ‘Turkey teeth’ obsession that results in a set of gnashers so white and so big it makes a normal person look like they’ve tried to swallow the side panel of a Beko washing machine.
Now before I’m accused of being too judgmental and totally against the cosmetics industry, rest assured that is not the case. My bathroom cabinet is stacked with all the trappings of a forty something who is not entirely comfortable with how times flies somehow taking her face (and boobs) with it!
There are the Q10 creams that promise to slow time, the make-up bag with my sad collection of beige liquids and don’t forget the tweezers for when a random black hair appears. Yes folks, I’m not shy about saying it… the years have been kind to me in many ways, but that surprise moustache was a big slap in the, well, upper lip.
A friend of mine recently itemised her wish list of cosmetic procedures. She has assured me that if she wins the lottery, we won’t recognise her in the space of a week.
She’s got every single body part threatened by either a syringe or a scalpel and she’s not afraid to say it. My girl code pleas of ‘you’re gorgeous and don’t need it’ fell on deaf ears as she fantasised over blown up boobs and angle-grinded chin tucks.
A few years back a friend told me of a woman she knew who gave her daughter Botox vouchers for her eighteenth birthday. I can just imagine the scene………… the candles are lit on the cake; the family are gathered and the birthday girl flushed with youth (and vodka Red bull) smiles as she opens the envelope.
‘Happy birthday darling!!!!’ screams the mother ‘Here’s some chemicals to pump into your face! I love you!’ Birthday girl cries tears of happiness and the whole family bursts into a heart felt rendition of ‘Happy Botox to you’.
Joke as I might, I genuinely was horrified by the above story. The idea of encouraging such practise to a daughter who only five minutes ago was a babe in arms just seems ludicrous, however, I realise now that this becoming more and more common place.
It begs the question what is it that scares people so much about aging and what is the right message to instil into our sons and daughters? And even if you think getting older really is a one-way ticket to Hell, is it right that we should pass these fears down to the younger generations?
My whole life I have only ever thought of cosmetics in one way; they are a tool to accentuate the real you but not to replace you. I’ve always enjoyed this idea of authenticity, the fact that every single one of us have been placed on this planet all a little different from each other and given the opportunity to shine brightly as individuals.
It’s a massive privilege to be alive in a world where we get to choose how we present ourselves so why do so many people choose ‘plastic fantastic’, the face that looks nothing than the one we were born with? The afore mentioned mother had a precious opportunity to instil confidence in her daughter, instead of which she actively set her on a road designed to find fault with every aspect of her physical appearance.
I remember when I first heard of Botox some time back in the early years of the millennium, it was something set aside for the rich and famous, not the average joes of the average community. The rest of us just splodged on the heavy-duty concealer and got on with it.
However, back then the world of social media did not yet have us in its grasp. Now we have a disposable platform that can help us showcase every aspect of our lives right down to the very last detail if we wish to do so. The world of the Instagram influencer has birthed an entirely new genre of celebrity and it seems everyone can have their so called fifteen minutes of fame if they want it badly enough.
Anonymity is quickly becoming unfashionable in this world where everyone wants to be someone and it’s this celebrity culture that is helping fuel the obsession of looking like someone else.
Authenticity is a word that few people know the meaning of now, instead we must all look in the mirror and find fault, find something that needs tweaked or improved on. We simply cannot leave ourselves alone. And where does this leave our mental health?
The endless quest to look perfect, to look like an AI-generated image all the time is rapidly seeping into the consciousness, and tearing apart the human condition. Women of all ages are being force fed a new language that feeds off insecurities. The cosmetics industry is waging a war and is firing bullets at every aspect of the human condition.
Feeling low? Botox it. Life getting you down? Nothing a little silicone in the upper lip won’t fix. Boyfriend dumped you? Hey girl, lets get those butt implants a rollin’.
I fear that behind every blow-up doll expression I see staring at me from social media, is an individual terrified of being just that… an individual. They have been taught to follow the crowd through the hole in the sheep wire but there isn’t always safety in numbers.
And what happens when you run out of road? When the botox has replaced your blood altogether and there’s nothing left to be filled, stretched, tweaked or blown up? What then, do you just implode in on yourself terrified of a life which no longer supports your idea of beauty standards?
When I was a young girl, I remember someone bringing up the topic of cosmetic surgery with my mother. She framed her face with her hands in theatrical fashion before proclaiming ‘This is me! There’s no one coming anywhere near me with a knife or a scalpel, anyone who doesn’t like it can just look the other way’.
She said this in such a raucous manner as if authenticity was a rebellion, a cause which you needed to stand up for. I often recall this memory and think how lucky I was to be brought up with this attitude towards personal appearance. It was ok to be me, and it was certainly more than ok to say a big fat, wobbly NO to cosmetic surgery. By the way my mum is in her eighties now and looks great.
I feel a fear in my heart now when I look at certain people. It’s as if physical appearance is replacing all common sense and suddenly the personality and deeper sense of integrity is being lost amongst this new cosmetics culture.
I don’t have children but if I did, I would be terrified right now. How do I pave the way for them in such a manner that allows them to choose for themselves but at the same time makes them understand the potential beauty of their flaws and imperfections?
If you are someone who regularly tops up the Botox and hasn’t had a natural facial expression in years you need to start asking yourself some big questions.
Ask yourself what it’s all for and what price you’re paying in trying to reach these goals of physical perfection. Often the darker side of our ego plays a big part in our less wise decisions. It’s time to listen to the deeper voice inside ourselves as to what really matters before our existence just becomes one big boiling pot of Botox, silicone and fake tan.
I can see it right now, toxic crude smelling sludge, tipping over the edge and rolling its way towards you threatening your integrity. My advice? Run for higher ground!
