We come at last, gentle reader, to the chapter I have been dreading. Are you ready? I’m not, but here we go.

Let’s start with the good stuff.

Ortlund knows what works for her, her style, her colors, her wardrobe needs, and she sticks to it. Her wardrobe is also limited and pieces coordinate–basically, a capsule wardrobe before that become popular. (I know, I know, the term actually dates to the mid 1970s). She has two guiding principles for her closet: “eliminate and concentrate” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 49). She also makes sure the ensemble is complete down to the last detail (jewelry, underwear, accessories), and then “jot[s] that complete outfit in [her] notebook: everything is listed to complete the ensemble” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 49). I can admire that even as I think, wow, that’s hardcore. I also admire how much of her clothing she passes on to others. I can and should do more of that. I also like the idea that one’s wardrobe should fit one’s life (she uses “ministry”), and I think of how my wardrobe has changed to reflect the seasons of my life and the work I do.

She also doesn’t spend that much time on her appearance on a daily basis–just over an hour to exercise, hair, make-up, clothes. That’s pretty reasonable. Why that specific amount of time? Well, 1 verse out of the 22 that describe the Proverbs 31 woman explicitly mention her appearance; ergo, Ortlund gives 1/22 of her time to it, or about 4.5% of a 24 hour day. If we count exercise in there, I suppose I spend about an hour on my looks, too. If not, I spend a lot less than an hour. I don’t wear make-up, and my hair takes 10 seconds to twist up and secure with a hair-stick or comb.

The time spent, though, is neither here nor there. She’s not recommending anyone spend a specific amount of time on their looks. The problem for me with this chapter is in the underlying assumptions.

Assumption 1: Ortlund starts with the idea that no one should see her without her makeup–just her husband who loves her very much. According to her, she has no eyes without eyeshadow. And she waits to talk to God until she’s put her face on. While I like to get ready for the day right away, too, I don’t think I need to put on my face to meet God. Presumably, God knows what I look like at my worst, so if seeing me in labor didn’t phase God, lack of eyeshadow won’t be an issue.

Assumption 2: All women everywhere long to be pretty and are interested in beauty and pampering. Apparently, we’re all envious of Esther’s year of beauty and spa treatments “to sweep King Ahasuerus off his feet” (Ortlund, Discplines of the Beautiful Woman, 45). No, not so much. I have nothing against a facial or a massage, but a year of them? More importantly, the story of Esther is not a romance (see an earlier post on One Night with the King and how it romanticizes the story). Also apparent in this chapter? We are supposed to value and be valued for beauty. Get the lotion on those elbows and heels; don’t forget the anti-wrinkle cream and sun-faders; make sure your thighs, hips, and tummy are toned; and get a good haircut. Ostensibly, this is all in God’s service, but I can’t help but notice that all of these things reflect society’s ideas about beauty.

Assumption 3: She’s not beautiful. This is A) not true. I Googled, and the images I saw show a lovely woman. And B) infuriating. It makes me angry that Ortlund and every other woman out there has felt judged (wanting) by society’s ideas of what constitutes beauty and that we are not supposed to know/say we are beautiful. If we do, well then, we know what we are.

Ortlund gives some good advice in this chapter, but underneath all of it is this assumption that we need to work to be beautiful. That we are not beautiful without the exercise, creams, make-up and clothes. She writes that without that 1/22 of the day spent on her looks, she’d “get seedy fast” (Ortlund, Disciplines of the Beautiful Woman, 47). Seedy? Look up the synonyms. It’s not pretty. It saddens and irritates me that she describes herself this way rather than as beautiful.

I know that I’m beautiful. I’ve even committed that most dread of sins–I’ve said it in public. In front of other women. In my memory, I professed it boldly. In reality, I said it softly, cringing a bit as I confessed. The thing is, I felt bold and revolutionary in that moment. And it was amazing.

I have now spent more than 1/22 of my day on this post, so…onward to goals.