No Make-Up Week!?
Yes, that means leaving my house and arriving to work bare-faced! *Gasp* To be honest, Tuesday was my first day, and I am already not liking it. Why? I feel naked and ugly. No matter how much The Guy insists that I look fine, I still feel like everyone is staring at the blemishes on my face and the dark circles under my eyes. However, this is a chance for me to learn why I began wearing make-up in the first place, and how that would compare to why I wear it now.
If you would like to get in on this, you could follow my steps starting at Biorequiem and find the original place (I think) that this started. Also, I plan on taking note of the questions and answers that I come up with for myself, but I shall post those at a later date. For now, I would like to hear (or perhaps read) other people's experiences. The following will be a small preface of how I began wearing make-up and nail polish for that matter.
Shall I begin with my parents? My mother never wore make-up. I guess she never cared--or maybe it was my father's opinion of make-up that deterred her from doing so. It's a shame, really. I think she would have enjoyed applying make-up to her face. My father always said that I did not need it. I don't think he said it because he was trying to say I looked nice without it. Personally, I think he just wanted to avoid the inevitable fact that he had two girls still living at home, and not the "all boys" children that he originally wanted. My father and I did not/do not have a happy father-daughter relationship. More on that some other time. I was also not allowed to wear polish of any kind other than a modest clear-coat on my nails. How I longed for a bottle of black polish! However, I knew the inevitable would happen: "male parental unit" would see it, and I would have to immediately remove it (or suffer beatings and then remove it).
My grandmother eventually decided to take my younger sister and I to the grocery store one day where I bought my very first bottle of pink polish with birthday money. I was in middle school and the polish was a light, pearly, pink color. Not my favorite, but good enough to show that old goat that its my nails and not his. Angst aside, "male parental unit" finally gave up, and I was allowed to wear any color but black. :(
I lost my will to fight with him on anything until I was 15. Then, I did not wear make-up until I was almost 17, which was about the same time that I didn't worry (too much) about my dad killing me for wanting a boyfriend. Now that I think about it, I feel as if I would have been more compatible with (and happier) dating a young lady of the same age at that time.
And with that I shall zoom off and update another time.
Cheers.
You can unplug your jack now.
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