Make-up Mockery *to be assessed*

As a young girl, I loved putting on make-up. I would have my friends come over and do all of their make-up and then do my own. I thought we looked so cool and I loved getting make-up from my mom and aunts. Looking at pictures now, I wonder what I was thinking. We all looked like clowns and I definitely did not have a future as a cosmetician. As I grew older and into my early teens, make-up became a distant memory and I haven’t looked back since.

I don’t wear make-up because I don’t think it suits me. I grew up a tomboy and the thought of wearing make-up didn’t interest me. It would take too much time to apply and probably come off when I was playing sports. I had acne so I did go through a phase of wearing a cover up on my pimples but never more than that. My friends would talk about the kind of make-up they bought or what brand they liked better. I just sat there completely ignorant to the whole topic.

Friends have asked to put make-up on me for nights out on the town. I’ll agree, especially if they ask me after I’ve had a few drinks. Within the first half an hour, I would have already wiped my eyes by mistake, rubbing their efforts down my face leaving a streak of blue and black. I looked in the mirror and couldn’t understand how they thought it looked good, but I didn’t want to insult them so I’d keep my mouth shut and my make-up on. The next morning I look at the hideous image in the mirror. It’s me, only with black all over my eyes, eye shadow on my forehead and make-up covering my pillow. I mutter those same words as I do every time I let my friends put make up on me, “Never again.”

Not only do I not like wearing make-up, I also don’t like going into cosmetic sections of stores, or make-up stores like M·A·C Cosmetics. These places make me feel so uncomfortable and take me out of my comfort zone. I don’t belong in those places and it’s obvious when I walk in and everyone looks like a Barbie doll. There are so many colours and make-up for places I didn’t know needed make-up. M·A·C is not a big store, but it feels even smaller when I go in there.

I went in with some friends one afternoon so one of the girls could get some foundation. As I walked around the store, it felt like the staff were looking at me, knowing that I didn’t belong. I could almost hear them tisk at the fact that I would even bother going in there. I try to keep my head down and walk around, looking at the ridiculous amount of make-up in the store. Then I look up and see the scariest part of the whole store: the mirrors.

Why must they light the mirrors in a way that make you look so horrible? I looked up to find my pasty white face staring back at me, crying for help. I had a deathly look, with dark bags under my eyes and very little colour in my face. Did I really look this bad on a daily basis? Am I just having a bad day? I was hoping that it just wasn’t my day but soon came to realize that the lighting was the culprit.

I walked around to check out the other people staring into these ‘reflection of death’ mirrors. Everyone looked as sick as I did. The lighting was making people looked washed-out and like they had not slept in days. I quickly took my eyes off the mirrors and decided I would much rather stare at all the crazy colours of cosmetics around the store. I was afraid to turn around, assuming I would surely knock something over, bringing even more attention to myself. I was out of my element in the store and I didn’t want to bring any more attention to myself than I thought I already had by being there.

I couldn’t wait to be finished in there and was so happy to see my friend head for the checkout counter. I kept my head down, making sure I didn’t catch another glimpse of my corpse looking face in the mirror. As we turned to leave, I made sure I was the first one out the door. I’m sure the staff got together after I left and thought, “What a disaster that girl was, she really needs make-up if she wants to get rid of that ghost look she’s sporting.” I’m well aware they probably didn’t even notice me, but being so displaced, I started thinking crazy thoughts.

There may come a day where I have an epiphany and think that I really need make-up to fulfill my life, but I don’t see it happening anytime soon, just like I don’t see a trip to the M·A·C Cosmetics store in my near future. If I ever start a career as a Vegas showgirl though, I’ll be sure to give M·A·C a call to do my make-up.