Day 2: Throwback Thursday

Thursday, Sept 12

Well, I’ve survived two days now without my blankie (you know, my security blanket: ie makeup). And no, I haven’t taken down every mirror in the house. Yet. There are moments of feeling liberated, followed by moments of feeling mortified and depressed.

The good news: Nobody cares if I’m wearing makeup or not (including my wonderful husband who keeps asking me if I’m actually wearing it or not, and is surprised when I say that no, I haven’t put anything on at all). The bad news: I still feel like I don’t look like myself yet. As in, all I see in the mirror are the droopy circles under my smallish, squinty-ish eyes.

My skin does feel a little fresher, you know, without being smothered in foundation. And my morning routine is quick and easy (which I might get very used to!), since I just wash my face, put some generic cream on, and go. My skin feels a little oily since I’m using a cream and not the department store lotion I used to apply, which was so light it had to be followed by the cringeingly expensive “serum” that promised to even out my skin tone (ie get rid of the brown spots or red spots or blotchiness or unevenness, I suppose).

And since I dropped the kids off at school at the curb this morning, I didn’t have to face any other moms and feel obligated to give excuses for my unkempt appearance, meaning I didn’t have to apologize to anyone for not wearing makeup, even though I realize that no one actually cares if I do or not. And I know I don’t need to apologize, but it’s hard to fight back that compulsion.

I did get a knock-knock at the door from the local missionaries, and I did not make excuses to them for my naked face, for looking “ugly”, and not just because they are pimple-faced teenagers who aren’t allowed to think I’m beautiful makeup or no makeup. And even though I don’t care what they think of my face, I still sort of do. I know, that sounds ridiculous, but for some deep, psychological reason, I care (too much) about what other people think of me. And not just what they think of me as a person, but what they think of me in the superficial sense.

Basically, I’m okay with not wearing makeup until I a) look in the mirror and still don’t see “me”, and b) am face-to-face with someone who I inherently want to not only accept my physical appearance but like my physical appearance.

Come on, I know I’m more than just a “pretty face”, if you will, but what’s wrong with wanting to be a “pretty face”? 

And so, in honor of good old “Throwback Thursday”, otherwise known as #tbt, I’m sharing a goofy pic of myself from 7th grade (the epitome of self-consciousness in my humble opinion). Here I am, fresh faced (aka no makeup and really no need for it yet), braces (made even more blatant and glaringly obvious with their black rubberbands, though you know I chose black because it matches everything, duh), and weird bangs parted in the middle.

This was a very transitional look, going from little elementary schooler to big bad Jr. High (since my old school district had only 7th and 8th graders in middle school), and from little girl to developing tweenie-bopper (and yes, that was a term I hated when my mom used it back then, but now that I’m a mom, I suppose it’s fair game for me to say…I read somewhere that in your 30s is when you first start feeling like your parents).

This is pretty much how I still feel I look! And it’s painful to consider that nearly 20 years later, I could feel even more self-conscious than my goofy old brace-faced, awkward-bangs, non-plucked eyebrows face. Which leads me to also consider this: as I journey through a month of no makeup, does that mean I should also stop tweezing?

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