...and I sure as shit don't look this good.
I see myself in the mirror and without my two beloved crutches, concealer and blush, I look wiped out, haggard, strung out. Five day heroin binge, anyone? My colleagues are noticing, which is strange because I haven't left my office since the project began.
"Are you OK?" one co-worked asked, peering into my bile-green work station.
"Yeah, why?"
"You seem tired."
"I do?"
"Yeah - you look like you're about to cry..."
"Really?" I ask, over-compensating with a maniacal grin. "I feel great."
Which is absolute bullshit.
I look and feel tired. I am less sparky (horrible word) and more tamped down. The person in the mirror stares back and says, "Where is the motherfuckin' JOIE, people?"
I grew up in a family that values beauty and understands its power. My mother is a glamorous woman whose profession depends on personal maintenance. She wears make-up because it makes her more beautiful and because her beauty is a gift she gives others. Rather than covering or hiding, she uses make-up to celebrate her best features and to communicate the joy of being a gorgeous woman. When my dad was sick and we were all worried sick, my mom made a point of wearing make-up every day to the hospital so my dad could look at a face full of optimism and cheer. In spire of all of my pseudo-feminist sensibilities, it made sense to me - and it touched me in ways I'm not sure I fully understand.
Though I've always adored make-up as a form of ornamentation and a celebration of beauty, I don't wear a lot of it. I suffer from Not Vain Enough Syndrome, which means I'd like to look better but can't be bothered. During the week, I do a one-handed make-up application perfected by subway commuters. Eyeliner, eyeshadow and mascara are serious extra credit for a weekday because they involve two hands and fine motor skills.
That said, when the occasion calls for extreme foxiness, I will rock the false eyelashes, the lip gloss, the whatever with great pleasure. I actively like engaging in the ritual. And when I do, homegirl drinks free. Sometimes she gets a second look. She is perceived as prettier, brighter, friendlier, sexier. She feels that way, too. When I wear little or no make-up, as I often do, I simmer into the background. I go unnoticed. Sometimes it's wonderful to disappear. Sometimes it bothers me, but not enough to make face paint a daily ritual. But I know I can toggle back and forth and I feel grateful to have that option. What I'd like is to feel the same with or without make-up.
Wait - scratch that.
What I'd really like is to have a natural rosy flush and no bags under my eyes. Who am I kidding?
Find out more about No Make-Up Week here.
Photograph via Loribeth Loves You.
