Monday, August 4, 2014

The Reason Why I Never Wear Makeup

Whenever my friends ask me why I don't wear makeup, I almost always answer:

 "Guys don't wear makeup, so why should I?"

 or "What if my face is itchy and I can't scratch it because I don't want to mess up my makeup?"

 or "Don't you always complain about how long it takes you to put it on in the morning?"

 or "No guys go around complimenting girls on their makeup anyway (to my knowledge), so what's the point?"

(I find that answering a question with a question shuts people up quite effectively.)

But the real reasoning behind why I choose not to wear makeup is so much more deeper than that. Don't get me wrong, when I was younger I really, really, really wanted to wear makeup. Watching my mommy putting on her makeup was like witnessing a ritual that transformed her into an awesome goddess and I couldn't wait to do the same.

But some signs told me to do otherwise...

When I was six years old, I was made a flower girl at a friend's wedding. It was in the middle of summer and to make myself look nice, the wedding's "makeup artist" (a.k.a one of the bride's cousins) put hair extensions, an excessive amount of makeup foundation, eye shadow, and lip gloss. (The makeup artist herself had a healthy coating of makeup and blush which made her look more like a blushing carrot if anything else.)  Since it was my first time putting on so much makeup at once, my face felt unnatural and I had an uncontrollable urge to touch my face. The makeup artist instructed me not to touch my face throughout the duration of the entire wedding and I thought that I could at least comply with those instructions.

 I had spent nearly the entire day indoors in an air-conditioned hall, so it wasn't that bad, until I went outside to wait for the limousine to take the wedding party to the reception. The limo was running late and it was very hot outside. Naturally, extremely hot temperatures automatically meant that makeup wasn't obligated to stay on my face. My face felt really wet and sticky and itchy, and by the time limo arrived I didn't notice that my makeup had dripped onto my dress.

Upon immediately going from the really hot outdoors to the air-conditioned limo, my face felt disgusting and itchy. And then without thinking, I wiped my face with the back of my hand. I felt relieved, but also terrified at what my mother would say when she saw my long, white gloves and dress covered in brown foundation.

Needless to say, I haven't been involved in any weddings ever since (I don't believe that's the absolute reason, but that could've been a factor).

One day I went out with my parents to Macy's to go and pick up some beauty products for my mother. I really liked going there because of all the free samples that the sales receptionists always gave to me. Usually it was just a sample of perfume or lip gloss, but that time I felt that I had hit the jackpot (I was a pretty simple child back then) because they were giving away sample makeup "cards", complete with instructions on how to put on the makeup.

I took one and I immediately got to work, putting on the makeup while reading the instructions. They were really specific, and I didn't understand what all the words meant, so it took me a while to put everything on, but at the same time I assumed that since there were instructions as to where to apply everything, I didn't need a mirror.

Let's just say that, I probably wasn't the brightest bulb in the shack...

When I had finished, I walked around the entire store and I kept getting compliments about how beautiful I looked. Eventually my parents called for me near the exit and I left the store. We were all about to go into the car, when my daddy decided to open the door for me. He then grabbed me by the shoulder and turned me around to face towards him.

He studied my face like he was reading a book.

Dad: "Hmm... You have on makeup I see. Where did you get it?"

Me: "One of the sales people gave it to me. They were handing it out."

My mom and dad stared intently at my face for a few minutes before looking at each other and then right back at me again.

Dad: You did that all by yourself?

Me: Yes! I made sure to follow all of the instructions on the card the person gave to me.

Dad: "Well, you sure did a great job. You know I almost confused you for a clown? You'd be a definite shoe-in for the Ringling Brothers!"

After that, my parents couldn't contain their laughter. They laughed so hard that other people who happened to be walking through the parking lot kept staring in their direction with confused faces, as if they were saying: "who let a pack of hyenas loose in Jersey?"

I immediately looked at myself in the side view mirror and I saw my mistake. I looked horrendous.

My blush was too high on my cheeks. I put on too much eye shadow. There was a whole bunch of other things wrong with my face, but I couldn't remember what they were specifically because I had already thrown away the makeup card.

"Whoever thought that I looked beautiful with this on my face clearly needs their eyes checked!!," I thought to myself.

Hookers probably looked even more presentable than I did that day.

On the ride home, my mommy consoled me and told me that she would one day teach me how to put on my own makeup properly, but I vowed that I would never, ever wear makeup again.

A couple years later, I was at one of my best friend's house along with her cousin (who I'm going to call Periwinkle, just because her actual name is as colorful as that). My bestie had just gotten a new makeup kit and she wanted to show it to me. It was impressive with all of its compartments and brushes and pads and its vast array of colors and products. Little did I know that I was going to be her guinea pig to test out her kit. Her cousin, Periwinkle, pinned me down onto my friend's bed, while she decorated my face.
To some people this might seem like a dream come true, but to me it's a recurring nightmare...

By the time she was finished, my face was a dark shade of magenta, I had green kitty cat whiskers, sky blue eye shadow, brown spots all over my face, and the taste of powder in my mouth.

When my mom came to pick me up, she couldn't believe that I had actually let my bestie "mess up my face" like that. What she didn't understand was that I didn't let anyone do anything. I was forced against my will!!

After getting home and washing off my face, (with difficulty, because the whiskers didn't want to come off) I vowed once again that I would never, ever, ever, ever, put makeup on ever again.

Of course since then, even though I said that I'd never put on makeup again, I kept trying (I'm very persistent). As if putting on even more makeup would offset the bad things that already happened to me.

Like getting mascara in my eye because I was rushing to put it on before my mother caught me using her mascara, or almost poking my eye out when I was attempting to use my mother's eyeliner.

Eventually, I stopped when my bestie (the same one who decorated my face like a "cat-like Christmas tree") told me that I didn't even need makeup because I looked too old with it on. Ever since then, I've never put on excessive amounts of makeup (unless my mom tackles me to the ground and forces me to put it on). I realized that I don't need makeup to make me feel beautiful or to make me automatically accepted into the clique of  "girls who put on makeup." I'm beautiful and I don't need creams/powders/glosses to emphasize or prove otherwise. (Until you see my face! Haha!)

Let's see if I can say the same thing 10 years from now.

NOTE: Sorry!! I didn't post this sooner because I was trying to find a picture of myself in my flower girl dress covered in brown makeup and I guess as soon as my house heard that I was looking for the picture, it immediately decided to hide all known traces of those photos. I then asked my mom where the picture was and instead of telling me where it was, she suggested that I draw a picture instead.

So... Here's my cartooned version what probably happened at that wedding when I was six:

I am Picasso. You're welcome.

I'll let you know when I find the actual picture (I bet my house and my mother are in cahoots with each other).

(If you can't read what my mini-strip says, you can click on the picture... Don't worry it won't hurt my feelings.)

*Bonus Panel*

Just Kidding! That most certainly probably did not happen.

NOTE: If it isn't already clear, I'm not hating on anyone who wears makeup! Makeup makes the people who wear it beautiful, but I've had too many bad things happen to me with makeup on, so I just don't put it on. Plus I'm super duper lazy
This is probably how I would look like if I ever tried putting on makeup now...
P.S: If you're a guy and you made it this far congratulations!! I'm glad you liked reading this! And thank you to everyone else too!

P.P.S: I just wanted to say the real real reason why I never wear makeup is because I'm totally f l a w l e s s! DUH! Well, at least my skin is anyway...

P.P.P.S: If I could ask another question to my friends it would be: "Since when was it ever safe to willingly poke your eyes out with a pencil for beauty?" Could someone answer that please? Pencils hurt people, like all the time, so I just want to figure out the logic... I almost poked my brother's eye out with a pencil, so why would I dare to put a pencil near mine? I'm not looking for a death wish!
Another question would be: "Why put on makeup since you're gonna eat it all off anyway?" Ewww... That can't be...tasty?

P.P.P.P.S: If you want a whole new perspective on girls who wear makeup vs. those who don't read this article from reddit!

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