Beauty, Pink Warrior

The Fallen

August 14, 2015

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And when they came upon her they stopped and stared attempting to make sense of what they saw before them.  All were tired and worn from the day’s journey.  Their feet were covered in sand and dust, sweat dripped from their brows and the sun beat upon their bodies with such heat most would have already turned back.  This was a journey they made together each year to show their faith and servitude.  Others did not dare make such a trip for only the most faithful could endure.  When they were sure their eyes did not deceive them and their wants did not overshadow reality – they boasted to one another of what a prize she would be.  As they looked down on her, lying in the bloody remnants of what had befallen her, they were sure it was a gift for their servitude.  She lay strewn upon black, full wings – the sword near with fresh blood.  Where her magnificent wings once lived, were gashes showing just how empty she now felt.  As she looked up she saw hollow eyes and glazed, bronze faces.  She could hear their footsteps fall in rhythm after they had tied her hands and feet to the pole on which they carried her.  The tall one with dark, unruly hair wore her broken wings in full view in hopes to taunt her.  They had the ultimate prize – The Fallen – obviously given them to do as they wish.

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She hung there, silent, in the small cage they provided.  What more does a bird with no wings need but a cage, and an audience to witness its pain and suffering?  Tears flowed onto the steel floor more so than the blood flowed from her wounds.  She longed for the light dusting of her wings across her back and soft caress of the wind in her hair.  She went over and over in her mind of how they were torn away, the pain she endured, and now, the regret.  She was then convinced she had made the wrong choice.

Her naked body hung there for what seemed an eternity.  They, her proud captors, would come and go pretending not to notice her beauty.  Even with her sobbing and trembling , even with the dirt and the blood dried on her pure white flesh – they could not help but to stare in awe. Her breasts were bare for all to see. For to them she had no reason to be demure. Her lips were as pink and welcoming as nectar and her dark eyes were deep wells of emotion and passion.

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They announced their prize to all as proof of their devotion. For only the most powerful would have cut down such a dark beauty from the sky and deliver her to them.  She would be paraded through the towns as some yelled obscenities, prayed, spit, or laughed.  Her captors egos grew beyond mere faith.  But then there were others lost in the shadows.  They seemed so few – who simply wept.  She saw them there, beyond the crowds of uncontrolled emotion and bravado, so small yet so strong.

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Months went by.  Her wings hung next to her as a cold reminder of what she lost and they acted as if it where they who had torn them from her.  To them, she was treachery.  She was The Fallen and who but The Fallen would deserve such nothingness?  She would have lost all hope and been content to hang their forever, yet each time she saw those in the shadows, she realized there were many.  It was something they didn’t know themselves.  Each one thought he was alone and there was something terrible within their very souls to keep them so separate from all the others that took such pleasure in her capture…in her pain.  Each one believed they were too weak to fight, too alone to be saved, too wrong to ever be right about what they felt.  She saw what they were made to believe and what they truly knew.

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Today was going to be the day.  They came dressed in golden clothing, adorned with jewels and praises.  It was the day for all who believed to see the ultimate show of their unquestioned faith.  They had never strayed, never questioned, never looked back or had an emotion stronger than their teachings.  Today would be Her judgment day.  As they looked into the sky to give thanks before entering her internment and crossed the threshold they became silent.  Each of them stood there unable to look away from what was before them.  An empty, silent cage.  The shackles they were sure could hold her were dangling with all their symbols and blessings for naught.  The door was not just open, but destroyed.  And her wings, her beautiful, black, tattered wings hung just where they had been for all that time.  Their hearts sank, as each looked down and away with hurried eyes and flaccid tongues trying to think of why and what and how.  They, who had come in with the sun, would now leave in their own darkness.  The crowds’ shouts from below grew louder and more urgent.  No words were uttered, no laughter, no boasting as they took down her wings and the sword which had once cut them away and cut and sliced until all that was left were feathers and bone.  They each bled their own hand not only in an agreement of forever silence but to bloody the now brutalized wings and sword.  When they were done, they took the once brilliant trophy and threw the bloodied mess they had just made to the people.  No words were spoken – no detail given so the people would be satisfied with the blood they now held in their hands.

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As she watched from afar she smiled gently.  The sun warmed her skin and the grass beneath her feet tickled her toes.  No tears fell nor did she feel anything but satisfaction.  What they never wanted to know is who took from her and threw her to earth.  She had flown above for so very long and danced with the wind.  The raven was her friend as it flew high, black as night, sometimes loved and sometimes misunderstood.  What she did not understand was everything below.  She knew there was more than mere freedom, and to find it she must do the unthinkable.  She stopped dancing and just fell.  When she hit there were sensations she had never thought possible.  An insane whirlwind of both pain and life coursed through her body.  She knew they would make their way to her soon enough and had no time to sink into this overwhelming feeling.  She took her sword high above her head and cut until her wings until they parted from her body.  When she finished she gently laid her sword down and fell upon her wings – waiting, listening, and bleeding.  The pain she was feeling was so new, so profound.  She had hoped to find kindness in those who found her, but with one look at her they made their judgments.  And for a time, she knew she was truly alone.

As the crowd slowly disappeared back into its usual blind routines, her once cruel and ignorant captors crept away quickly and quietly hoping others would only see humbled reprieve.  Then there were those who stayed, if just for a moment, to mourn the death of all those around them. Those that mourned for their brothers and sisters who were dead to love, and compassion, and understanding.  Those they once loved who knew nothing but blind rage against something they did not understand.  They were the reason – the understanding she had searched for – longed for.  She knew at that moment she had made the right choice.  The choice to learn and feel things she could have never done before.  Not until she grew close to the earth and all those who were flightless would she know how beautiful life could be.  They did not understand that she was not the outcast but that she had decided to walk among The Fallen.

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Photographer: William O’Shea

Special Effects: Tat2dmom Productions

Makeup and Hair: Pink Warrior Make-up Artistry

Model: BarbarellaF Model Page

Story by: Angela Bollinger

Uncategorized

My Mom is Awesome

July 15, 2015

I just wanted to celebrate my mom, Angela Bollinger for a post. I can’t even begin to describe my love for this amazing woman; the woman who gave me life, nurtured me, and taught me how to be the person I am today. She is strong, so very strong, for everything she has endured in life. If you’ve read any of her posts from her personal blogs, you would see that not only has she endured her life, she is conquering it. When I see my mom, I see a warrior. She is my rock and my favorite friend.  I love her more than anything.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       –Lydia

Beauty, Boudoir, self esteem

Boudoir Isn’t That Serious

June 18, 2015

I have had SO MANY women tell me that they wish they had my level of confidence.  My own Pink Warriors have said this – that they want to be like me. I giggle at both statements because I have always struggled to be confident and to be strong.  I have made MANY mistakes, felt ugly, been bullied, gave up, just to arrive here.  Confidence and strength aren’t the lack of insecurity or fear nor are they limited to certain people with certain characteristics.  Confidence and strength comes from making a decision to ignore your insecurities and fears and to enjoy life.  It is simply doing the opposite of what insecurity and fear tell you to do – hide, be quiet, don’t try something new, think you are ugly, etc.  So I did that – a boudoir shoot – the one thing I had always wanted to do but never thought I was pretty enough or in shape enough to do it.  I wanted my friends to see that I was scared to death (and I was) but did it anyway because I wanted to – because I needed to – for me.

So what I am going to share with you now are not just the wonderful, perfect photos that were picked out of the many that were taken.  I am going to show you the goofy, silly, “me being me” photos to get to the few that would be worthy of an album.  Scott with Altered Ego Images in Charlotte, NC did a great job of making me feel comfortable.  I had my daughter Lydia, my friend Elizabeth, and Scott’s fiance there helping me along because I had no clue how to pose! When I am uncomfortable I use humor to get past it – and I get past it!  I had a great time doing this and Altered Ego Images did a great job with all my nerves and really dumb jokes during the whole thing.

So here you go – the reason that EVERY WOMAN that wants to do boudoir should – it isn’t because we are perfect – it is because we are women and we are beautiful in our own way!  So don’t hesitate to do whatever it is that you need/want to do to feel beautiful.  Its ok if it takes 15 silly or “bad” pics to get the one you want – and that is with anything – photos and life.  So Enjoy!

Duck face with my snake always makes me feel better
Duck face with my snake always makes me feel better
So yeah - not sucking in but laughing my butt off
So yeah – not sucking in but laughing my butt off
Notice the bit of belly just touching the bed - its all good - I was having fun
Notice the bit of belly just touching the bed – its all good – I was having fun
Yeah - trying to look tough - just couldn't
Yeah – trying to look tough – just couldn’t
I think they were telling me to push my butt up higher in the air...they didn't know I already was...LOL!
I think they were telling me to push my butt up higher in the air…they didn’t know I already was…LOL!
Here is a very serious, sexy pose...
Here is a very serious, sexy pose…
This was an "accident" I was seriously just trying to spread my lipstick out a bit...a good photographer has good timing!
This was an “accident” I was seriously just trying to spread my lipstick out a bit…a good photographer has good timing!
I got a little more comfortable here - I was focusing on some kind of prop next to the bed
I got a little more comfortable here – I was focusing on some kind of prop next to the bed
This is my fave pic...I guess because I'm all twisted and upside down...whatever I like it
This is my fave pic…I guess because I’m all twisted and upside down…whatever I like it
I seriously do have underwear on here...but I have to say my booty looks great!!
I seriously do have underwear on here…but I have to say my booty looks great!!
Beauty, Pink Warrior

What’s in the Name?

May 1, 2015

So I get asked all the time…”Why did you name your business ‘Pink Warrior Makeup Artistry’?”  It is way deeper than just liking the color pink or fighting with mascara wands!  In this name I find strength, understanding, patience, fierceness, compassion, hope, loyalty, honesty with some pink pizzazz.

For a good part of my life I fought who I was..who I am.  There was a time that I hated being a girl in school – at least one that wasn’t the prettiest, the most popular, or well spoken.  I tried to cover my face with more makeup and hide my gapped teeth with my hand when I smiled.  I was so sensitive and shy.  My feelings would get hurt so easily and my heart ached for others in the same situation.  As I got older I started enjoying who I was a bit more – maybe too much.  Then a bad marriage with bad things made me once again hate being a sensitive woman so I decided to really toughen her up.  I started being “direct” and “emotionless”.  I became in a sense “one of the guys” but at the same time used my femininity to get what I thought I wanted but never showing my true self – so for a while – I hated pink.  It used to be my favorite color – then it just signified my weaknesses.

Now – I know that Pink is what made me strong.  Not the color – but actually embracing who I am.  It can be anything for anyone – but for me it was Pink.  I learned that being sensitive and caring doesn’t include being a pushover or a door mat.  That I am strong because I am a woman – not in spite of being a woman.  I also learned to accept people as who they show themselves to be.  I may know that inside someone is “good” but I realized if they choose to be the opposite – then I must take that as truth.  I have learned that I really do love others – a lot.  My empathy as a woman is a wonderful gift that allows me to “feel” other’s emotions and truly help them how I can.  My strength has helped me realize I don’t have to become their problem in order to help them.

A Pink Warrior is someone who…

…falls down and gets back up

…asks for help when they can’t get up on their own

…accepts others for who they are – regardless of race, religion, gender, sexual orientation, etc

…not only accepts others for who they are – but loves them for it

…who works everyday to accept themselves as who they are

…has compassion

…seeks wisdom

…stands up for what is right

…uses whatever he or she is doing for good

…is a leader in one way or another

…can follow without resentment

…cries when they need to

…laughs every chance they get

…allows themselves to become angry

…learns to let go of anger and then to forgive

…serves others even when a “thank you” is never received

…allows themselves to be served – and then thank them for it

…finds something beautiful in everyone they meet

…is bold but not pushy

…makes mistakes – then owns them, learns from them, and fix them when they can

…understand that others make mistakes too

…does everything worth doing – to the best of their ability

…kicks fear, self doubt, hate, shame and guilt out of their life

 So Pink Warrior Makeup Artistry is a group of talented, creative, fun, loving artists that go beyond makeup or hair – its their passion to help everyone understand their own inner and outer beauty.  I am Pink and  I am a Warrior – and I am proud to be a part of it.

Be Strong.  Be Beautiful

Angela

Beauty, self esteem

The Elusive “Beauty”

June 8, 2014

When I was 14 years old, my sweet aunt gave me a book to help me feel more beautiful.  More importantly, I think what she wanted me to see is the beauty I already had – what she saw in me – what she never could see in herself.  She wrote “To my special niece Angela Marie Poole.  From: Aunt Sue – Aug. 1988.  Love always Angela.”  The book was “The Way to Natural Beauty” by the very beautiful, super model Cheryl Tiegs.  Up to that point I was always so very self conscious.  Trying everything to be prettier – to hope others could see me as beautiful.  I pored over the pages in this book – read them over and over to unlock the secret.  The secret that freckles and gapped teeth, I felt, kept hidden.  As I read through the pages, I realized that being “beautiful” was more than just the right makeup – especially the beauty that I was trying to achieve.

Beauty is defined in Merriam-Webster Dictionary:

1:  the quality or aggregate of qualities in a person or thing that gives pleasure to the senses or pleasurably exalts the mind or spirit:  loveliness

2:  a beautiful person or thing; especially:  a beautiful woman

3:  a particularly graceful, ornamental, or excellent quality

4:  a brilliant, extreme, or egregious example or instance <that mistake was a beauty>

But the dictionary cannot give us the definition of what exactly is considered beautiful – because the very definition of beauty is defined and re-defined by our culture.  When reading through the pages, Cheryl talks of being a size 8 when she was a model and only alarmed when she was above a size 10.  At that time, beauty wasn’t a size 0 – by definition.  Marilyn Monroe was also a size 8 but she looked completely different than Cheryl – different times – different definitions – but no less a beauty.

Classic, Natural, Exotic, Alternative, Non-Traditional, Simple, Elegant, Dramatic, Romantic, etc. are some of the many “types” of beauty.  But if you travel from one country to another what defines these “types” are all very different.  We, as women, are always trying to hit an ever moving, ever changing target of the definition of the time and place.  We tuck, we stretch, we shrink, we tighten, we fill, we cover, we uncover, we grow our hair long, we cut it short…and that is world wide in one way or another.  There is no difference in what the Kayan women who stretch their necks to 10 inches or more to the women who inject collagen into their lips.  However, it is the reason they do it that makes the difference.  Are these women doing it out of self-loathing or self-love?

You see, no matter the definition of the time, be it blue eye-shadow or dark, black eyeliner, how you carry it, how you feel about yourself is what truly matters.  That doesn’t mean we have to love every single thing about ourselves.  I won’t tell you to learn to adore the zit you just got on your wedding day!  But to learn to accept ourselves as we are and to do things out of self-love will create beauty above and beyond any definition that can be given to us.

We already know that we cannot all look like the models we see (or think we see).    What we can do, is realize that “beauty” is but a passing notion.  That lasting beauty goes beyond just vision.  None of us should even look at the models we feel are too skinny and say they are not beautiful.  They are – you are – I am – because that is what I believe.

“The Way to Natural Beauty” was filled with healthy eating tips, exercise, natural ways to care for our skin, our body, and our mind.   When reading through the pages as a 37 year-old woman, who no longer has the gapped teeth, but now, embraces her freckles and the few small wrinkles finally gets it.  I do things to make me feel more beautiful – regardless of what anyone else thinks. It’s ok if you decide to stretch your ears, tattoo your body, have a face-lift – but do it because you already love who you are. Otherwise the definition of beauty you try to achieve will fade as quickly as the next magazine cover lands in your hands.

Be Strong. Be Beautiful

Angela