Thursday, August 21, 2014

~ clean and clear ~

I remember clearly the first time I wore makeup.  I was in New York City, I was 11, and I had snuck a tube of mascara past my mom.  For some reason I was under the impression that I wasn't allowed to wear makeup so there was an unnecessary feeling of guilt and excitement.  That green and pink tube of mascara made me feel grown up and sophisticated, even though my suitcase was chock full of boot cut jeans, Crocs, t-shirts with ponies, and my American Girl Doll.

My relationship with makeup has been on and off since then.  Cat eye and red lips is my go-to look, but I'm finding myself losing that panicky feeling I used to get when I left the house without eyeliner.  A couple years ago I was wearing makeup to the gym, to the beach, and on every trip to the grocery store, but the older I get, the less dependent I am on what used to be my mask.

I mean really...who the fuck cares if I have a huge pimple on my nose, dark circles under my eyes, or stubby eyelashes?  If you really notice any of that then I'm gonna have to ask you to take a step back and respect my personal bubble because only creepy people stand that close.

Sure, some days I look like I've stayed up for 72 hours straight, or my face has decided to display its rendition of Starry Night: Zit Addition, and yeah...sometimes the bags under my eyes are big enough to carry a week's worth of groceries.  But I've stopped letting that ruin my day.  Got a pimple?  Wear a busy dress.  Horrible dark circles?  Wear a scowl and then people won't talk to you, so, win/win.

I've got weird bumps, acne scars, baby wrinkles, and a few independent eyebrows that like to strike out on their own.  But that's okay.

I don't have time to worry about that shit anyway.  With highs in the 100s, anything that goes on your face ends up in a puddle of sweat by the end of the day.


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