Pamela Anderson Is Makeup Free and I'm So Jealous
Her newfound confidence holds a lesson all women can learn
The biggest story of Paris Fashion Week a year ago wasn’t about any of the clothes. Instead, everybody was talking about Pamela Anderson of Baywatch fame. When she showed up to the event, she set off shockwaves because she dared to do what only the most rare of women had ever done before.
Pamela showed up without a drop of makeup on her face.
Not only that, but she didn’t apologize for it. Instead, she walked around for the cameras with a beautiful smile, grinning from ear to ear. It was as if she had found a huge secret that women across the world have been waiting their whole lives to discover.
She had complete freedom.
When I first saw the pictures from the Paris show, I’m ashamed to say my first reaction was that Pamela would have looked a little better if she was made up. It was shallow of me and my old way of thinking that women have to look perfect before they “present” themselves. Old habits die hard.
I was overlooking the fact that, makeup or no makeup, she was truly a very beautiful woman. She radiated genuine happiness in those pictures, like she was enveloped in total peace and harmony.
I’ve always had a complicated history with makeup that borders on addiction. In reality, I’ve come by that flaw honestly because of my mother’s obsession with her appearance. She always had dozens of creams, tons of mascara and lots of pretty eyeshadows and blushes. In her later years, I thought she wore too much makeup, but she loved wearing it so much that I didn’t have the heart to ever mention it.
Honestly, I would probably go to Sephora every day if my wallet could stand it. The amount of beauty products I have collected now unfortunately rivals even my mother’s old stash. I’ve always loved to play with all the colors and paint on my face as if I was some type of artist. For most of my life, even a new lip gloss was all it would take to make me happy.
My mom once told me that the point of applying makeup is to make it look like you’re not wearing any, so I try not to use too much at a time. Even if I don’t leave the house, I wear makeup for my husband and because it makes me feel better about myself.
But that’s not the real reason.
Behind my makeup obsession is an alarming lack of self-confidence that goes back to when I was a teenager. I fretted over every pimple or bad hair day. I tied what I looked like to whether people would accept me or not. I also had an irrational fear that if I ever took a day off from wearing makeup, my friends wouldn’t want to hang out with me anymore, much less any boys.
I feel sad now for the young girl who believed everything was so tenuous and based on appearance. As I know now, my true friends would have never left me. I’d been abandoned several times before I was sixteen by fickle boys I’d fallen in love with, and somehow I thought it was all my fault because I didn’t look perfect for them
In an article for Elle magazine, “Pamela Anderson Is Savoring This,” the actress admits that when she was younger, she went along with what people were telling her to do. After her makeup artist, Alexis Vogel, died tragically from breast cancer, Pamela simply decided not to wear makeup anymore. She calls her new look “freeing, fun and rebellious.”
Superstars like Jamie Lee Curtis and Scarlett Johansson have called Pam’s new look “brave” and “powerful.” Pamela has shared that she feels the happiest she’s ever felt in her own skin and that not wearing makeup in public is a “release.” She just seems so damn… happy.
When Pamela Anderson was in those fashion week pictures, it left me feeling a little jealous. There she was, about the same age as me, and her smile was the kind that came from inside and lit up a whole room. She was herself. She was nonapologetic. She was free.
I wished I was at least one of those things.
My mother was never shy about pointing out things on my face that she felt were wrong, such as getting a zit or messing up my eyeliner. As I got older, she would comment on the dark circles under my eyes and lend me her makeup to get rid of them. The message was that I wasn’t good enough if I didn’t look perfect, and I carried that belief everywhere I went.
Now, at age 56, I understand that I won’t lose a friendship over a pimple. My husband won’t see me without makeup and run screaming from the house. I’m figuring out the things that are purely beautiful like kindness, love and compassion. They have nothing to do with my physical appearance, but every day they become more important to me.
I’ve come to terms with the fact that my face does not look young anymore, and I’m mostly content with that. Realizing the things I see that are actually breathtaking in the world, like a sunset or watching one person helping another, have been the true beauty all along. It also goes a long way to crushing my once overblown vanity.
Don’t get me wrong, I still have fun playing with makeup, but I no longer slather on products like I’m trying to hide from the world. Worrying constantly about being accepted finally takes a backseat to realizing who the people are that will love me forever no matter how good or bad I look on any given day.
I have a lot of respect and awe for Pamela Anderson. Because her life is so uninhibited, she may inspire a lot of women to put down their makeup cases and get on with their newly natural lives. In a world where society expects us to look as attractive as possible, it’s okay to go against the grain and just be our gorgeous perfect selves. If somebody else doesn’t like it, that’s tough.
I think it’s still okay to want to wear makeup. I’m not totally giving it up, but it’s better to make sure I’m doing it for myself. Personal happiness is what matters the most, not anybody else’s judgment of us, and all of us have the last word on exactly who we are.
Pamela Anderson holds the record for most nude appearances in Playboy.
Anyway, she and this essay are right...the fashion and beauty industry is wrong. For decades, they have made it sound that you have to have a perfect hourglass figure and use 80 tons of makeup to be attractive.
Which is utter nonsense. All these supermodels -- what a term! -- admit in daytime talk shows and ghostwritten memoirs after they stop flouncing down runways that they owe their success to anorexia, eating disorders, drug and alcohol addictions, and have suffered from sexual abuse, rotten marriages, and lying personal managers and agents.
Fortunately for them, they found new lives in Jesus/Buddha/Giant Blue Chickens and a fantastic new husband and their 3.5 children/fashion accessories and their Irish Setter, and are now dedicated to their foundation to fight anorexia among teenage girls. Or something like that.
Meanwhile, real women, who do not have personal trainers named Ramu, an army of makeup people, abusive NHL players as husbands, and actually finish higher education, get good husbands, good careers, good children, and a dog from the Humane Society.
I will never forget Cheryl Tiegs, that icon of American beauty. Five husbands. First one was Billy Joel. She whined while pregnant, "What if our child looks like you?" She cheated on him, got divorced, she and the new guy were saved in a skiing accident, got pregnant by and married to the guy, and the height of the ceremony was the rescuers holding up poles and Cheryl holding up the results of the test, and yelling, "It's a boy!"
They got divorced anyway.
She later admitted she was in therapy for "relationship issues."
You are the one in my heart, there is no substitute for you. Your love runs through my chest and encompasses the sky.
Even the meanings have not found anyone like you. I am confused by your descriptions. Be and as you are.
O sweeter than the pure, clear water, your closeness is a delight to the heart, and your distance is a torment.
You go like money in the eyes of the miser and come back like a vision in the eyes of the blind