Gussied up

So let's talk about makeup.

I'm not here to tell you that it's bad, or not to wear it, or you're beautiful without it. I'm not here to shove an opinion down your throat, or make you change your life.

I avoid the politics of makeup.

No, I'm here to talk about my experience. 

Back in elementary school I had rosy cheeks, perfect skin, and an unnatural bob that my mom thought was adorable. I really wish I could find a picture for you that would properly describe what I'm talking about. She curled in my bangs (leaving behind a few burn marks on my forehead) and the undersides of my hair. But other than that, I took all of 10 minutes to get ready in the morning. MAX.

Until middle and high school. I was--what's the best word to describe this--plagued with acne. Gross, yes. (And to this day, I would kill to have the perfect skin that so many others had/have) So I covered my face in a layer of makeup...not even knowing how to make it look good. I smothered foundation on my face most days and that was that. Looking back at pictures, I can tell you that I looked like a mess.

In high school, I even branched out to curling my hair every day. That had to make me look better, and even make people like me more. Right?

It took me a while (and a heavy dose of Accutane) to finally realize that I preferred forgoing makeup altogether. I no longer felt like a slave to the concept of "I have to put my face on." Or, gosh I look terrible because I haven't put a single bit of paint on my face. I realized that makeup isn't everything, and not all guys love a girl covered in it. I guess everyone's version of beauty is different. 

Some girls love to wear makeup every day. I even know a girl who posted a tutorial on makeup because she was so aggravated by people doing it wrong. 

Other girls feel super insecure not wearing makeup every day (like I did), and others feel comfortable in their own skin and look great without anything. 

I'm an amateur at makeup, hands down. It's an art form that I haven't even attempted to master. Maybe one day I will. But for now I feel beautiful in my own skin (despite its major imperfections), and I love that. 

So if anyone wants to volunteer to be my makeup artist, I wouldn't be opposed. I'd let you do it whenever I was bored, or had time, or felt like dressing up. Assuming that doesn't happen, I think my time is best served trying to become a master at the subjects I really care about. 

But hey, it never hurts to put some on every once in a while, right?

Much to my mother's disdain, I have an aversion to smiling for most photos these days. 

I went for a Parisian look tonight. But as dressed up as I was, I still couldn't help but act like the buffoon I really am. And we all know the French would have no problem telling me that.

I suppose life goes on.