In high school I was an oil painter. I remember that I had three hours of the day where I was in the art room, and I would leave to go home with paint stains all up my arms. I felt so beautiful in that classroom, but unfortunately when I graduated from high school, I graduated away from free art supplies. I still have half-painted canvases in my childhood bedroom, and I hope someday to have an oil painting studio. Where I can open all of the windows and feel the summer breeze on my paint stained skin.
Makeup is expensive, but it’s less expensive than my future studio probably will be. Skylights tend to run on the pricier side, unfortunately. It wasn’t until I was a freshman in college that I started to realize how fun makeup could be. It’s like painting; it’s what you make of it.
Makeup is all about what you think is beautiful. It started with just a few items, and grew to be an almost embarrassing collection of products. Makeup didn’t bring me confidence, it brought me my hobby back. It sounds cliche, but I am a canvas. I have drawn more wings with eyeliner than I can count and can apply false eyelashes in less than thirty seconds. I have turned myself into the Joker (with latex and cotton balls) and into a pop-art zombie. I can be whoever I want to be with the stroke of a brush, and it’s almost like magic.
The best part about it is the feeling when someone asks me to do their makeup, especially if it’s for an event or a date. You laugh when they apologize for flinching away from the makeup brushes. You smile when they love whatever you’ve done to make them feel even more beautiful than they are. I’m not normally a mushy person, but it really does bring me so much happiness to see my friends glow even brighter than they had before. That’s a highlight joke, but my jokes are so bad they get the bronze. (I hope someone thinks I’m funny.) Makeup has become this conversation piece, and it’s something that can cross cultures in such a beautiful way.
Unfortunately, like most good things, somebody has to be an asshole about it. I’ve been told that I’m tricking people. I’ve been told that I’m beautiful just the way I am or that I don’t need makeup to look pretty. I appreciate it, but I’m not doing it to be prettier. I don’t do it for anyone else. I do it for me.
Someday, hopefully, I’ll be sitting in front of canvas with rays of sunshine warming both my skin and my heart. When that day comes, I know that I will still be in love with the way that makeup can paint you, expressing yourself in bright and bold colors or subdued but striking hues. Along with mascara and eyeshadow, I know that little spots of paint will lay like freckles on my cheeks. I can’t imagine a more beautiful way for two passions to come together.
I’m in love with makeup, but I’m also pretty fond of how I look tumbling out of bed when I’m almost late for my 9 a.m. class or hanging around the house.
It doesn't matter how much foundation I have on. I will feel good about the body that I live in. It's not always easy, but no amount of makeup could make it easier. It's just life.
