Fake me VS. Real me: The Art of Cover-up

Makeup. What a difference it can make. I mean, I already knew this and you probably did too. But I mean seriously, take me for instance.

For people who regularly read my blog, you know (or should know) that last night was the opening performance of the play my university’s English department is putting on, Twelfth Night by Shakespeare.

So our director told us to put on loads of makeup, especially around the eyes, to make our facial features and expressions easier to see from the audience’s vantage point.

Now, when I was younger (like high school) I used to wear makeup all the time because of well, I was a teen and that’s what most teenage girls were doing at the time. I know, I know, peer pressure and all that. So doing my own makeup for the play was easy. After I got home and it was time to wipe the makeup off, I decided to take a before and after picture that I will put at the end of this blog. Fake me VS. Real me.

The thing was, I was raised in a conservative family in a conservative little Texas town where if you wore any trace of makeup you were considered what my mom likes to term, a Jezebel. So I didn’t really wear much makeup, couldn’t paint my nails, color my hair, anything pretty much every girl does on a regular basis.

I’m not trying to say that I hate my parents for it. I mean, it was annoying being chastised for wearing something that I thought made me look pretty or having momentary embarrassment but I never was like, Ohmygosh, I hate my parents so much! Goodbye cruel world. Woe is me! stuff. It was just…annoying. Now though, I’m thankful for those restrictions because I’ve seen some girls who get addicted to that stuff and have to do it. I’m comfortable with or without it, a nice balance, so kudos to you momma.

My journey with self discovery (makeup & fashion wise) began the summer before I started 7th grade. I was at summer camp and one of my cabin mates was a makeup expert (or so my little 13 year old self thought, looking back she was pretty good though) and she introduced me to what us girls like to call eyeliner. She put it on me for a banquet we were having and I la la la loved it! I thought it made me look older and popped my boring brown eyes out. I was so happy with the results that I was skipping back to our cabin to finish getting ready, I walked in and that’s when it happened. My first hater, my first test of strength as I like to call it. Another very conservative cabin mate looked at me, disgusted, and said, “What happened to your eyes? That is so ugly, you look like a whore.”

Ahhh, the pain of my little 7th grader heart. It was painful then, it was my first experience and I was very conservative also. I felt like a rebel, if only my mother could see me now. Back then, wearing that black eyeliner was like the equivalent of losing my virginity. The Summer I Lost My Makeup Virginity. 😉 

I know that seems to some, a little bit much, but for me it was not. So I was already feeling guilty & rebellious (bad mix) and now the second person to see me thought I looked ugly.

I couldn’t do it, my throat started tightening and tears started to well up in my eyes, I felt disappointment I knew would come from my mother if she saw me then and defeat. Alas, my hero, our counselor was there and she chastised the girl and took me by the shoulders, (out of all my years at camp, she was the best counselor I would ever have by far and to this day, she doesn’t know what kind of impact she had on me, I didn’t either) and she said, “Don’t listen to her, you look beautiful. She is just jealous. There will always be girls and people like that, but you can’t let them shake you. You gotta do your own thing. Always.” Ne’er was a truer tale than this. There will always be jealous haters, people who look down on you, people who judge you, people better at stuff than you, etc. One of the biggest things is how you deal with it.

She then took me back to the bathrooms and fixed my face and hair. That was an amazing thing for her to do. Maybe the advice was a little simple and possibly cliche/redundant but for my 13 year old self esteem? It worked like a charm. Everyone else that night told me I look amazing/beautiful/cute/pretty/etc. and from that point on, you could say I was hooked on the high of looking good, aka, makeup.

It wasn’t easy. For the first year, I would try to be sneaky and go to the dollar store down the street and get the cheap stuff. All I wore was eyeliner. I don’t know what happened with my mother, but she relented saying that it would just look weird if I went back to no eyeliner.

8th Grade came around and I started playing with eye shadows, not wearing them to school, just at home with my dollar store makeup pretending I was a beautiful princess or something like that.

High school came and by then I was wearing makeup all the time. I never needed cover-up or foundation though, thankfully I got good genes and acne was not a part of my makeup (genetically speaking, I know, I know, lame pun. Whatever.) I started buying those eye shadows where they tell you exactly how to put it on and what color goes where and I guess that’s how I learned to do my own makeup.  I just played around with colors until I found a combo that worked or something I liked.

My mother could never really help me because she didn’t wear that type of stuff and I never asked her. I know a lot of mothers and daughters who bond over stuff like that but I don’t feel any love lost or some type of deprivation. It’s just not who we are or where are relationship is based.

Back in 9th/10th grade, I used to feel like I always had to have makeup on and my hair fixed. I knew (or thought I knew) that I looked fine without makeup. I was lucky to have the support system and family I was born into. They built me up, for the most part, and made me believe that I had some natural help. 11th/12th I still did my makeup but only when I felt like doing it or for special days or church. I didn’t care so much for my appearance and some probably thought I was a slob or some sort but hey, do I see them now? Are their thoughts of me the most important thing on my radar? Nope. Not at all.

Around the time I got pretty good at doing my own makeup, I got kind of, well, tired of it. It’s just that,

1. It’s not me: What I mean is, it’s a cover-up, a facade if you will. It’s a tool used by many to get people to like you or think you’re pretty. I’m not trying to be rude or anything, but I’ve seen people who wear makeup all the time then when it comes time to take it off or they had a bad day or woke up late…..lemme tell you, it is not that pretty. People get so used to what they see on a daily basis that when you decide to take it off or change or what have you, it’s just shocking sometimes. I want people in my life who like me for me. Glasses, braces, (back when I had them) crazy unruly hair and all. I don’t want people in my life who like me for what I represent or look like when I have makeup on. I used to like the looks people gave me when I had makeup on but now I realize that, for the most part, attracted superficial people. And I DON’T like superficial people.

2. I originally wore glasses, then I got contacts in high school and I kind of switched back and forth. Contacts though, can be a bother. Also, half the time I’m tired so I yawn, which causes tears. Back in high school I had it down to a science. Now, that I don’t wear makeup as often as I used to, I’m forgetful. So I go to swipe my eyes or rub them and then I’m like OH crap! I’ve got make up on. How annoying.

3. Oh my word it is so annoying to take off. I use waterproof mascara and eyeliner, because hey, you never know what will happen and I am a hormonal woman. (; And my face is super sensitive so I have to use a special brand of wipes or else my face gets irritated but then I have to rub and rub and rub to get the eyeliner and mascara off. First world problems.

Man this post has gotten long, but I had a lot to say on the subject I guess. So in conclusion, makeup and I have what you call a love/hate relationship. When I need a good confidence booster, I’ll put on makeup and try to look pretty but for the most part, I’m okay in my own skin. When it gets down to it, that’s the most important and number one hardest thing any of us will ever have to learn: Being okay/comfortable/confident in your own skin and making your lot in life work.

Now, one of my favorite things about makeup, is doing it for someone else. I love it when people ask me to do their makeup because I love the look of confidence that enters their eyes once they see themselves. I love giving them tips on how to do it and how to start to learn to do it yourself. I love making a girl feel like they are the most beautiful thing in the world, which they are, with or without makeup. I look at makeup as the making or breaking point of a girl’s first step to being confident and comfortable. Thankfully for me, it was a making point.

Well, that’s me and my journey of self discovery, give or take a few experiences.

Fake me VS. Real me

In the words of an awesome girl who’s recently getting a lot of hate for being confident and comfortable in her own skin:

Don’t you worry your pretty little mind, people throw rocks at things that shine.

Give and Take

You know, I’ve learned a lot about myself lately. When they say college is all about self discovery, they aren’t messing with you. Revelation after revelation hit me, slap me, berate me, but sometimes comfort me. Rarely. But sometimes still.

One of my recent and depressing ones (at least to me,) I give myself away too fast and too easily. I love to meet new people. Love it. I think that’s part of why I am a journalism major. I love to hear about different lives, where people have gone, what people have seen. Most everyone, when given the chance to talk, says something that’s of worth to me or interesting. I’m a curious person by nature so asking questions come easily to me. When you let people talk, you learn so much about them and not just from what they’re saying but from the emotions passing across their faces and from the body language they give. People always tell me I’m easy to talk to and that I listen well. They tell me I’m so open about things that they find themselves being open with me. I don’t mind. I think that everyone needs someone to listen to them and people deserve a chance to be heard.

Back to what I was saying though. People. They wrap me up in their words, their stories. I’m not just talking about the opposite sex or sexuality, I’m just talking about people in general and more on the emotional side. After I talk with a person who has told me about their life, I feel like I know them so well. I know their mannerisms, their annoyances, their trials and tribulations, stuff like that. So when they do something that hurts me, I take it hard. I don’t really show it to others except my family and best friends but only because they see right through me.

I just recently gave myself away to someone but I want to say this: I don’t regret it because it finally opened up my eyes to the fact that I do this a lot. I guess in my twisted brain, I think that if I give myself to them, that I will be enough (that it will be enough) because it’s enough for me. I hold people to my standards, to my expectations. Which I realize is not fair but this is a struggle of mine. No I don’t hate this person, I don’t dislike this person. I actually still like them and care for them. They made me happy and showed me so many things over such a short amount of time, how can I hate them for something they don’t know they did? Maybe they were just using me but in the end, didn’t I use them as well?

I guess I shouldn’t be depressed because I don’t think I’m going to change. I wouldn’t trade the memories I’ve made and the lessons I’ve learned for all the hurt it has caused me. Maybe it hasn’t necessarily made me stronger but it’s made me learn more about myself. I guess that’s just the give and take.

Family is a real pain.

Family.. If you are blessed to have a decent one, they know you better than any other people out there ever will. Today though, I want to talk about my brother. It’s his birthday, that’s why. He is 24.

I posted this facebook status: Dear Brother, Brudder, Broseph, Broham, Broski, Brosepher, Bubba, Bubs, Bro, Fatman, Dou– no okay, I’ll stop my list of names for you since it’s your birthday. Anyways. You’re the best brother I’ve ever had. Well, you’re the only brother I’ve ever had so I guess that’s not saying much. You basically know everything. We’re blood. You’re annoying as all get out but I don’t know how I would have survived the terrible teen angst without you. You always listen to my rants even when you don’t want to. You know me better than anyone else. I don’t care who you say your best friend is. You’re always gonna be mine and I’ll always be there for you when others aren’t. I may give you some crap about it but that’s just our relationship. Through all the drama and fights we are still, and always will be, BLOOD. I know we aren’t very lovey-dovey like some siblings but guess what? I love you all the same you crazy political, gun-toting Texan!! Don’t do anything to stupid. Ever. Because I can’t imagine my life without you in it. Thanks for giving me the best nephew in the world. I guess you’re pretty neato if you can create that. Props. Happy Birthday Bubs! ♥

So I started out with that facebook status but I soon realized I wanted to write so much more about him and about our relationship and so, brudder, this one’s for you.

Today marks 18 years and 5 months that I have been with this crazy guy. Looking back, I never realized, just how much time I spent with my brother. I still remember the first time my brother made me cry with complete sadness. We were in the kid aisle of HEB playing swords. He was starting to hit puberty, (I didn’t know it then) we were having so much fun–lost in the laughter. That was until three girls his age came turning down the aisle. Suddenly his countenance changed in an instant, like lightning. He stopped playing with me and I said, “Come on bubba, play with me!” He turned towards me angrily, “No, leave me alone.” He then proceeded to turn towards the girls and smile. As the little girl I was, my heart broke, and I ran to go find my mother to cry in her arms. My brother didn’t know how much he had hurt me in that instant. We joke about it now but even as a little girl, I understood that our relationship was changing.

Through the years, I have seen him at his absolute worse but still I look at him in love and care (most of the time.) He has seen me at my worst. He still loves me. I guess the reason for my title, Family is a real pain., is because out of everyone they have the power to hurt you worse than anyone else can. My family and I have had our share of heartaches but I’d like to think that overall we’re awesome.

Our relationship is so much different than it was when we were younger. I guess it’s because we’re both adults now, finding our places in the world. We’re still close and I think growing up has made it easier and more enjoyable to both of us. I think it’s brought us closer because we have serious things we talk about to each other.

My brother is the person I can be my complete self with and I know he won’t judge me. We have our insiders, we have our TV shows (24, Psych, Heroes, etc.), our movies. Sometimes our family gets so annoyed with us but we don’t care because we’re having fun and we couldn’t be this way with anybody else. My brother is one of the few people who can make me smile when I absolutely don’t want to.

The thing with my brother is I know that he’ll be there to listen to me. Always. I am so completely happy that I am not an only child. I cannot imagine my life without this crazy guy. If I didn’t have my brother, I wouldn’t have my nephew. It’s only been two years but family just kind of grabs your heart and ties themselves around it in unbreakable bonds. It would’ve been like when you know something is missing but you can’t figure out what because you’ve never experienced it before. I guess that is what it would’ve been like for me without my brother or my nephew.

My brother has been with me every step of the way. He’s in all of my best memories. He’s this unshakable presence in my life that I wouldn’t trade the world for. My brother. Happy Birthday Bub. I love you to infinity and beyond. You’re my best friend in the whole wide world.