We went away to Minnesota for Thanksgiving last week and it was really nice for Owen to spend time with his extended American family (the fact they can occasionally drive me bananas is neither here nor there).
While we were out there I basically stopped wearing make-up. For Friday, which was when Owen got baptised, I put on some warrior paint again and I actually enjoyed it. It's made me stop wearing it since we got back (except for a touch of concealer, because I'm still vain and embarrased about my teenage-style spots) and I'm determined to keep it up. I like to think that while I may be plain under my eyeliner, actually it doesn't matter to anyone but me. And then, when I do put some slap on again for a special occasion, it feels like a treat and I'm happy to devote some time to it.
I think the thing that bugs me the most about make-up is taking it off again at the end of the day. I absolutely HATE getting ready for bed because I have to use the loo, take off my make-up, take out my contact lenses and clean them, brush my teeth, put on lip salve because the teeth-cleaning dries them out, put on hand lotion because washing my hands after everything else dries them out, and finally get into my pyjamas. This all usually takes place shortly before midnight because I forget to do everything before Owen's last feed of the day... SO... if I can skip taking off the make-up because I didn't put any on in the first place, all the better.
It's incredibly emancipating and I reckon I'm going to save a few pennies too. :)
In other news, I spent many an hour talking to my brother-in-law last week and we got into a very interesting discussion one night about Catholicism. As we were talking about the concept of Original Sin (it having been Owen's baptism earlier that day), a theory occured to me. Forgive me if someone else has already come up with this, but it really did enter my head entirely on its own.
Before women's reproductive systems were really understood, women were considered "dirty" and "the other" because they bled once a month. (Misogynists still believe this today, but that's because they're idiotic trolls and not necessarily because they're uneducated.) Now, the process of childbirth is also very messy. It's often primal and the experience reaches into the very core of a woman in labour in a way that no other experience can. It's animalistic and private, and when your child emerges they are covered in white goo, or blood, or even their own bowel movements. They snort and they drool and they cry, and if you've never watched a birth before you'd probably be very surprised that babies don't emerge all clean and dry and swaddled in a receiving blanket.
So it occured to me that because children come from a place that is traditionally misunderstood and unclean - being the inside of a woman - the founders of Catholicism decided that not only did the outside of the baby have to be washed when it was born, but also the inside needed cleansing too. Hence the idea of Original Sin. Seeing as humans cannot reach the inside, or the soul, baptism serves that purpose. Yes, Jesus may have been baptised by John, but the concept of Original Sin didn't emerge until hundreds of years later, when the women of the Bible had been all but erased (see the virgin/whore dichotomy throughout) and men could really get to twist its words.
Well, that's what I think, anyway. Original Sin is essentially misogynistic and I'm not buying into it. Owen's baptism was NOT Catholic and it had no mention of such nonsense. My beautiful baby boy would have gone to Heaven whether he'd been sprinkled with holy water or not, but now he gets to embrace his faith fully and celebrate it with his family.
Original Sin can kiss my arse.
Tina.
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