After seeing the social media discussion over actress/model Pamela Anderson's understated appearance at last Monday's Met Gala event, my RedState colleague Becky Noble wrote a spot-on piece addressing the conversation surrounding Anderson's minimal make-up/low-glam look, noting the consensus seemed to be that the 57-year-old was rightly "bucking the societal, and more specifically, Hollywood rat race of being in your 50s and being expected to look like you are still in your 30s."
The whole debate got me thinking about the definition of "beauty" in and of itself, which is different depending on who you ask.
To some, beauty is mostly, if not entirely, a superficial thing. Like a rose bush in full bloom. Or a 20-something Hollywood starlet who is dressed to kill. Or perhaps a classic car that has been restored to perfection. Or, more humorously in President Donald Trump's case, his "beautiful hair."
To others, beauty is not so much a look as it is a state of being. While it's hard to define that exactly, I'll share an example of an experience I had several years ago that hopefully will get the point across just as effectively.
I was sitting in a long line at a Wendy's drive-thru in the middle of having a tough day. Typically, when I'm in drive-thru lines, I will compliment the service workers helping me at the windows because, having worked in retail for many years when I was younger, I know sometimes it is a thankless job with the personalities you sometimes have to deal with, especially when the lines are long and the customer's patience is running thin.
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"Your fingernail polish is gorgeous," I might say. Or "nice hat" - things that hopefully will make their day go by a little more smoothly, especially if it had been a challenging one up to that point.
That day was no exception. Except when I got to the first window, I did a double-take at the cashier.
She was an older woman, probably in her late 60s/early 70s. She had gray hair that was pulled back into a bun, was wearing little to no makeup, and had a few wrinkles here and there.
And yet she had a glow about her as she performed her duties, a quiet calm, and a Mona Lisa-type smile which told me that even though things were super-busy at the time, she was not stressed, that she could handle it, that she was happy to be there.
I thought she was one of the most beautiful women I'd ever seen. Not so much in looks but how she carried herself, with confidence and what seemed to be an inner peace - neither of which can be found in a bottle of foundation, a smoothing hair serum, or a tube of lipstick.
Despite all she's gone through, I see this in my mom a lot, too. At 81 years old, a mother of three who worked full-time jobs most of her adult life to provide, a former caregiver to my dad for the near-11 years he was on dialysis, and someone who battled Stage IIIB colon cancer at the age of 79, my mom exudes firm strength, determination, and grace like no one I've ever known.
And it is beautiful. Inspiring.
I'm no doubt a bit biased, of course, but I'm not the only one who has seen this in her and has said something about it.
Beauty is what we make of it. While there's not necessarily anything wrong with viewing it primarily through a superficial lens, I've found that there's far more satisfaction of a long-standing variety to be gained if one searches for it beyond the surface.
