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I once read a story about a millionaire who put on a new pair of socks everyday. He bought 365 pairs of socks a year so he could sink his feet into that awesome feeling every morning while getting dressed.
I don’t have a lot in common with millionaires, but new socks everyday? I get that. It could be very nice.
Most of us are trained to look down upon such extravagance. But what would you do everyday if you could do whatever you wanted? Have oysters flown in from New England every morning? Hire a driver? A chef? How about fresh flowers every week?
If there’s one thing the Millenials have brought to our culture is this idea of self-care. My kids are always talking about their self-care moments: an hour alone at Starbucks, a morning of yoga, a manicure, a nap. And since my generation identifies more with the pre-industrial era, (work! work! work!) the commitment to self-care, and a society that flaunts it and markets it–always seemed a bit over the top to me. “Treat yourself” is a hard sell to folks who sacrificed for their children all their lives, and went without “treats” and naps and massages so that everyone could wear shoes to school and have a square meal at dinnertime.
Most everyone who grew up in my era tells me their family might have gone out to dinner once a year, and when they did, it was a big giant deal. You could feel the weight of the occasion by the way your father acted at the restaurant: with a unfamiliar formality, a real “man-about-the-world” routine, and an unchareristic generosity as he declared, “Order whatever you want.”
Even a trip to McDonalds before the babysitter arrived on Fridays was like some amazing moment–an unparalleled gift from the universe and from parents anxious to get their kids fed so they could get away from us faster.
Self-care has today been defined as “A multifaceted process of purposeful engagement in strategies that promote healthy functioning and enhance well-being.”
People are beginning to realize that consciously taking care of themselves is probably a good thing to do, but it’s probably the first time society has actually made room for it. My father-in-law’s self-care was sitting in the living room alone when he got home from work with a high ball. His wife made sure none of the kids made noise or bothered him. And that was it. That’s the only instance I remember him doing anything for himself.
My grandmother had a decent self-care routine, consisting of Ponds facial moisturizer in the evenings, True Romance Magazine on her TV tray, and an unending supply of Pepsi and chocolates, but she was the most pampered person I knew. That’s why we liked visiting her. She shared that loot abundantly with us, the luckiest grandkids in the whole northeast, really. Nobody I knew had it that good.
My other grandmother sat out in the sun as a treat to herself, though I’m not sure her skin was very happy about it later in life. I don’t remember her ever declaring to anyone, “I’m off to excercise some self-care today and have decided to skip work and spend a day’s pay on myself.” She fed five children by way of her own hard work.
I don’t have a problem with self-care although most people my age just aren’t wired for it. My mother says she’s never had a manicure. I’ve had two massages my whole life and that’s only because I hurt my back once. My husband thinks a treat is a beer after mowing the lawn..
I looked up an article on the new self-care phenomenon and one writer declared us Baby Boomers as totally uneqipped to handle life’s stresses. “Unfortunately,” he said, “many people view self-care as a luxury, rather than a priority. Consequently, they’re left feeling overwhelmed, tired, and ill-equipped to handle life’s inevitable challenges.”
Buddy, if anyone can handle life’s challenges it is my generation and all the generations that came before us. We jumped off boats onto beaches and stormed the Nazis with a bravery still talked about and heralded to this day. We saved for years to buy our first homes, we fed children on shoestring budgets, we faced depressions and recessions with true American grit.
I think taking care of ourselves is nice. But the the true aim of life is to build character, isn’t it? And that just can’t happen during a manicure.
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