22 Aug 2011

Guest Post: It's in my natural makeup

Today's guest post is from Charlotte at Write Like No One's Watching. You're going to love her hilarious writing style.

 

The first time I left the house without makeup on was terrifying. I felt naked. And not in a sexy way. I had spots. My bags were so bad, I thought I’d be accosted by some roaming urban panda. It was terrible. I walked the (admittedly very few) shaky steps to the local shop in a state of complete paranoia.
“Were they looking at me? Did she just laugh? Okay, breathe Charlotte. Head down. Walk quickly.”

In the shop, I grabbed my things and stood, twitching in the queue, willing it to move more quickly so I could find a rock to hide under. I paid with all the finesse of a thug, almost throwing my money at the cashier and leaving with a grunt and the slam of a door.


 

When I finally got home, I fumbled with the key, scrabbled indoors and sighed with relief. It was only then, I stared into the mirror opposite me and realised that, despite my wild-eyed, crazy bag lady look, I didn’t look that bad.

 

So why didn’t I feel right without makeup?

I felt like someone had taken my mask from me and made me go out and face the world et al with my duller counterpart. It was sickening. Would people even recognise me? Doubt it.

My experience of makeup has been a mixed bag. I’ve had good times, bad times, orange times, bushy-browed times, spotty times, deathly pallor times and even, dare I say it, pretty times.

I think it all started at my first ever go at dressed up. I was at a family Halloween party. I went as Kylie Minogue. I was three. There was glitter involved. And rosy-red cheeks. I loved it.

It started a trend. I was a natural girly girl and I embraced it.

I remember when I first properly discovered makeup -  I was around five or six and my auntie, who was then a hairdresser, used to put curlers in my hair and put makeup on me, at my demand – with the indignant insistence that only a child can have. I was a drama queen even then.

Makeup made me better. My cartoon-like features became more pronounced. I achieved sexy. I mastered the no-makeup-makeup-look. I was on to a winner. This was how I was SUPPOSED to look like.

But Jesus it was depressing taking the stuff off. Cleanser, toner and ten million face wipes later and my carefully sculpted cheekbones returned to their hamster-cheek ways. My eyes became sunken and googly. And my spots screamed for a felt tip and a dot-to-dot session.

I actually remember rising with the birds and creeping out of our bedroom, with the stealth and grace of a secret agent/gazelle, just to apply a little make-up before the boyfriend woke up. You know, the sort that makes you look like you haven't anything on? A dab of concealer here, a stroke of mascara there... I’d even brush my hair and mess it up again. I’d brush my teeth and try not to smell to minty. I’d spritz some perfume and perfect my best I’ve-just-woken-up-look-how-cute-I-am face. It was worthy of an Oscar win.

But that day, when I went to the shops, I just could not be bothered. I was hungry. I needed food. This obviously came first as I’m a greedy cow. I thought I could get away with it. And I did. I didn’t turn heads. Not least in the right way. And my life went on. No one threw rotten fruit at me. And it felt quite nice to have fresh air on my face for once.

I now skip the slap when I swim, a great joy of mine considering that I hate waterproof mascara as it’s like removing tar from my eyelids. I sometimes even spend a whole day makeup free. Okay, I confess, I usually spend that entire day indoors, but this is progress.

Last week, I didn’t even wear foundation to work. Not one carefully made-up eyelid was batted. Not one.

I'd love to say that beauty is truly skin-deep, but whoever said that was clearly a romantic or under the influence of some sort of narcotic. Christina Aguilera can tell us all that we are "beautiful, in every single way," but she's lying. If beauty was skin deep, the fashion and cosmetic industries would be non-existent and we'd be spending our pocket money on personality classes and the like. Can you imagine?

I'm pretty certain that I owe my success rate with men to the entire cosmetic department of Selfridges. I know I couldn't have done that alone, considering that I look like a 12 year-old male eunuch without makeup.

I’m not quite ready for life without my beloved makeup and I’m pretty sure the world isn’t ready for it either. I’ll stick with my ways for now, but when the mood takes me, I may just strip off and get naked. It’d be rude not to.

 
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6 comments

  1. Great post! I've worn make-up since I was 14 and rarely leave the house without it (unless I'm going for a run and don't need to interact with anyone). I recently went out without make-up on a lazy day and felt a mix of satisfaction of getting ready in half the time and a feeling of being invisible and not being able to make eye contact with anyone! x

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  2. Great post!

    I honestly do feel NAKED without make-up on, I have braved it out a few times without anything on my face and I have never felt so uncomfortable! x

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  3. Omg, I frickin love this post and the writers writting style! haha, made me giggle at some parts!

    http://the-russian-girl-diana.blogspot.com/

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  4. Thank you so much for giving me the chance to guest blog again! Thanks also to those of you who read it and enjoyed it! :) xxx

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  5. I am a not that addicted to make up. The only think I really can't go out without is eyebrow. I trimmed my eyebrows since in high school and in college I learn to put some eyebrow pencil to defined my brows well. I am okay with some baby powder on my face.

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