Now and then, someone will ask me why I don’t where makeup, and I consider it a subtle comment on my appearance. A little blush might bring some colour to my skin. A bit of eyeliner will make me look more mature. Some mascara will make my eyes pop.
I’d be lying if I said I’ve never woken up and had a problem with the paleness of my skin, the dark circles under my eyes or the dull rose of my lips. On days like these, my habit has always been to dislike my genetics, instead of running to my makeup bag. Makeup has always been a secondary solution. Sometimes it helps, and at other times, it only adds to my despair. On days like these, I see makeup as mere filler for my faults.
I’ve heard it said that the ultimate purpose of makeup is to enhance your natural beauty, not cover it up and, I have to agree. Makeup can be a lot of fun. It can make you feel confident and beautiful. In some cases, it could even be considered art. I love what makeup can do for my appearance and my self-esteem. But my issue lies in the inevitable reliance on this “upgraded” image.
If wearing makeup leads me to feel dissatisfied with my natural face, than I’d rather not wear it all. I don’t want to roll out of bed, look in the mirror and see a tired, pale face looking back. I want to see me, with all my God-given colour, pout and eyelash length. The moment I begin to value my done-up face over my natural one, I’m wearing makeup for the wrong reasons.
Women look different with and without makeup. We shouldn’t have keep up one, like a mask, over the other. There isn’t room in this world for two of me: the one with makeup and the one without.
I will wear makeup when I want to, because I want to. Not because I feel pressured too.