The blind woman

I was sitting across a blind woman in the metro today.
Balancing her stick between two fingers, she kept touching her face every two minutes and kept adjusting her hair.
Several times she checked if her curls were in place.
If her fringe was alright.
And I couldn’t help but wonder.
Why was she so conscious about how she looked?
She couldn’t appreciate her own visual beauty.
Then why did she care if others did?
How did she determine what people with eyes looked at?
Shouldn’t she be one to care about inner beauty before anything else?