Wednesday, April 30, 2014

My Face

[Inspired by "My Face" by Robert Benchley.]

Some mornings, when I'm drawing in my eyebrows, my nose seems to take up most of my face. It is those times when I take the time to cover it up and look and imagine what I might be with a different one. I know that I'm too fickle with my own appearance to actually change it, nor would I be able to justify the money. I'm stuck with it, but that doesn't mean I'm happy with it. 

I was told that the nose determines the facial attractiveness of a person. 
 
But that's okay, because I don't always hate it. Some days I wake up and the line of my jaw looks particularly pleasing in the yellowish light of my dorm room and the faint white sunlight peeking over the hills in the distance and held off by a pane of glass and blinds. I tilt my head a few times on those days and smile at myself before going about with my morning routine. 

Being a woman, and being a woman who sometimes bothers with makeup, but only after 9 AM, I spend a lot of time staring at my face. And sometimes only a few inches from the mirror as I try to make an arbitrary line on my eyelid as straight as I possibly can, and then match on both eyes. 
 
Makeup can be dangerous. As it turns out, there are rules. And there are things you need to keep buying every six months, lest you end up with an eye infection. When I first started wearing makeup, just a little bit of mascara, in high school, I ended up with pink eye because no one had told me about that rule. I remembered lying down on a pile of blankets in the living room, taking pain medication that would put me to sleep because although it wasn't oozing puss, my eye did feel like someone was scooping it out from the inside. 

I didn't know what caused it until much later, so I didn't put the blame anywhere, although whether it would be me for not knowing what to do with old mascara or the media for telling me that I needed it in the first place. 

But I don't know if it was something wrong with me, or some failure for advertisers to get on my brainwaves, but I never thought that I absolutely needed makeup. I believe that I have proven often enough that I don't feel it necessary to put on before leaving, particularly if I know I'm just going to get up, shove myself into some clothes like an overstuffed sausage, and head off to class without much time to contemplate whether that zit needs covered up or not. 
 
My face is ever changing enough that I feel as though no one would notice a day without mascara, although that's likely not true. To other people, my face probably stays the same. They don't devote the same amount of time watching the expressions that it makes in the mirror, looking at all flaws from just half a foot away. 
 
Looking so close at your own flaws has got to have adverse effects on your self esteem. Three percent of women would never let their significant other see them without makeup on, and that figure apparently means just...forever. It isn't as though makeup hides who you are as a person. Your face still looks the same underneath, but to the 33% of women who have gotten up before the person they are dating to put on makeup secretly, perhaps the line isn't as fine. 
 
Hell, I do bother to color in my blonde eyebrows most morning, and yes, I do feel naked without them colored in, to an extent, but I still like my face the way it is. Even if it never looks the same from day to day.

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