This may be my most controversial article to date, but—
Cheers to more of those in 2026.
There’s a certain kind of woman in this world who is (utterly and consistently) revered in my head… and heart. But to the world, she’s often dismissed, degraded, or downright hated (on).
Most of the time, this woman enters a room and garners nasty looks or thoughts from half the people inside. And that’s before she even opens her mouth. Most times, she won’t. But if she does, the rest of the room might despise her, too.
All except for those who admire her. Who commends her. Who relates to her. And, except for me.
Not even an hour at my vanity could bring me clarity as to why. I put the caps back on my beauty pieces, secured my sponge inside of my dusting powder, and put away my brushes, still not knowing where the distastefulness is born for such tasteful creatures.
Because truthfully… I want to be friends.
Over the last two years, I’ve voiced my desire to be friends with the type of woman who cares about hardly anything more in life than her beauty.
A vain woman.
A conceited.
Arrogant.
Haughty.
Downright vanglorious woman.
To so many degrees, I am confident that we are quite linear.
While conceit and arrogance and haughtiness and vainness are weaponized against women who are sure of themselves, their worth, their values, and their goals… I find them pretty damn impressive.
I’m not referring to the empty, desolate souls. I’m referring to the impactful, joyous, and genuine souls. The ones who have had that ‘it’ factor from birth. It wasn’t learned, taught, or bought.
What’s the matter with being conceited as a woman who is the actual birther of LIFE?
Arrogant?
Haughty?
Vain?
And, what’s the matter with putting all of your energy into your appearance or your beauty or your wardrobe?
We’ve given far more to others for far less and end up disappointed ALMOST ALWAYS.
I’ve watched ‘hopeless romantic’ women pour their energy into relationships that shattered their entire nervous systems and left them without a tear in their ducts.
I’ve watched ‘happily married’ women pour their energy into marriages that crumbled like old, stale cookies, even after they tried their hardest to make it work.
I’ve watched ‘highly educated’ women pour their energy into their education only to end up with the same pay as a non-qualified, uneducated candidate or a job that doesn’t align with their major.
I’ve watched ‘working’ women pour their energy into companies and corporations only to be passed up by male peers who have benefited from work they didn’t even do.
I’ve watched mothers pour their energy into children who resent them for working hard to provide better circumstances and surroundings.
I’ve watched church women…
I’ve watched ‘stay at home moms’…
I’ve watched writers…
I’ve watched teachers…
I’ve watched women…
Women all over…
Women everywhere…
Pour their energy into people, situations, education, relationships, marriages, and the list continues…
Only to the benefit of others.
So when the world encounters a woman who pours the bulk of her energy into herself, the problem occurs.
It’s as if she is wearing a big, bold tag on her back that reads…
“Others are hardly allowed to benefit from me.”
Boy does it look damn good on her.
The thing about vain women that scares others is—
She’s always having her way. The amount of energy she pours into her beauty is usually the same amount of energy she pours into every other aspect of her life—unintentionally, most times. It’s simply who she is.
One laugh and the guys at the tire shop are rotating her tires and changing her oil for free when they don’t even offer oil changes.
One smile at the GM of the restaurant and the tab is covered. Not because she’s flirting, but because she kept the guys sitting at the bar spending money longer just to flirt with her.
One nice outfit and one extra hour getting ready, and the line at the door of the hottest restaurant suddenly doesn’t exist. Somehow, those reservations that were at capacity seem to open for her and a friend.
One sappy look and the attendant is making ‘an exception just this one time’.
One request and it is granted, even by strangers.
There’s a small part of the world that BENDS for a vain woman. The other part of it CRIES, SULKS, or SECRETLY WISH THEY WERE HER.
The vain woman is not oblivious to the differences between her and the average woman. She also understands she’s not average. She will never try to be or pretend to be. No.
Because she is a reaper for women (average, above average, or incredibly vain). An ally. A teammate. A partner. Even if the feelings aren’t mutual. She reaps benefits that have been stolen from women for far too long.
She understands that women hardly have a chance to thrive/win in life. We’re only at ease approximately 12 days out of each month.
We have periods.
We have babies.
We have fibroids.
We have PCOS.
We have to cook.
We have to clean.
We have breasts.
We’re underpaid.
We’re unappreciated.
We’re disrespected.
We lactate.
We populate the world, and still we are NOT revered. We are hardly even respected. So, that little selfishness that rolls off a woman’s skin in the form of vainness, it is electrifying.
In bold letters, underneath the declaration that others are hardly welcome to benefit from her, I see, “This is my superpower. This is my act of rebellion. This is how I will be remembered, because we are hardly remembered unless we’re doing something for someone else. This time, one of us will be remembered for doing something for ourselves.”
Truth is, we’re the only certain parts of our worlds. We’re the only person we can truly trust. We’re the only person we can truly count on.
It feels counterproductive when we aren’t introspective, somewhat selfish, or vain.
I fully support women who—
Pour into themselves.
Blot their faces when their makeup begins to oil.
Lotion their bodies in no hurry at night.
Carry compact mirrors in their purses.
Runs to the restroom every few minutes to check their appearance.
Only wears her finest pieces in public.
Walks with her head high.
Keeps an extra pair of shades near.
Visits the nail salon so much that they know her name by heart.
Spend hours in the mirror making sure every piece is in place.
Calls her stylist out of bed for emergency appointments.
Travel the world to enjoy spas all over the world.
Aren’t afraid to talk about themselves.
Are up on the latest trends, although she understands she is THE TREND.
Sleep in silk scarves on silk pillows.
Sits at her vanity until her legs grow numb.
The world never has to wonder about. They always know why she’s chosen, despised, admired, disliked, and revered.
The vain woman…
Her rituals are sacred.
Her jewels are beautiful.
Her presence is awakening.
Her smile is radiant.
Her movements are calculated.
Her time is precious.
Her presence is an allegiance.
to her peace.
to her nerves.
to her heart.
to her mind.
to her soul.
to her smile.
to her happiness.
to her joy.
to her emotions.
to her body.
to her systems… all of them.
Her vanity is breathtaking. And, there’s a deeper meaning to her existence than her beauty.
She’s not the enemy. She’s an ally. So is her entire purse that serves as an arsenal for the woman in need of a blot towel, lotion, compact mirror, mint, or hair spray. She’s the secret weapon to winning many levels of womanhood.
If you love pieces like the woman you’ve read, immersed in feminine richness, you’d love my snail mail club, The September Letter. The list opens monthly on the 1st. Here’s how you join —> click.
I love a good “right in your face” reminder of remembering who the fuck you are!
I was raised to “stay out the mirror.”
So when I encounter “vain women” I feel inspired to spend a few more minutes in the mirror everyday.
Still learning to exercise my pretty privilege.