It got to be so routine that I never questioned it—wake up at 6:30am, roll out of bed, walk across to the bathroom, grab my makeup bag and get to work. Always the same makeup—black eyeliner, mascara and concealer to hide my acne and the dark circles under my eyes. It got to be so routine that I didn’t even think about it—I didn’t think about how insecure I was without it, the panic I felt the one morning I couldn’t find my concealer or the personal attachment I had to that little purple makeup bag sitting on my bathroom counter. I hardly recognized myself without my makeup because I never left the house without it.
A few months ago, my boyfriend and I were talking, and our conversation ended up at my makeup habits. “I mean, you look fine without it,” he said casually, hardly even glancing in my direction, "I don't see why you have to wear it." To him, the fact that I wore makeup was hardly important; he didn’t really care, but he also didn’t understand the logic behind it. I made up some excuse about how I didn't wear it to impress him or my peers, just to feel happy about myself. It wasn’t until later that I realized just how much that statement illuminated the effect of makeup on my insecurities. In the back of my mind, I had convinced myself that I didn’t really care all that much, that I could choose to stop wearing makeup anytime I wanted. (In hindsight, I sounded like an addict—eternally convinced that I didn’t have a problem.) And then I started to wonder—could I really force myself to go to school without makeup? A few mornings I woke up, told myself I wasn’t going to wear makeup, and then inevitably rolled over, went to the bathroom, and picked up that makeup bag anyway. There were days when I wore less—maybe just mascara and concealer—but I never went without something on my face to cover my flaws.
So, finally, two weeks ago, I made a resolution—no more makeup to school. And let me tell you, it was not easy to confront my insecurities. But I’m so glad I did now, in hindsight.
The first few days were pure torture to endure. That first morning, I woke up at 6:30 a.m. as always and rolled over, preparing to go to the bathroom—where, I promised myself, I would not apply any makeup whatsoever. But I also knew that if I got up right then, I would feel obligated to put on at least something. While it took all my willpower, I pulled the blankets up to my chin and slept for another 20 minutes. (You know you have a problem when you have to fight against an urge to get up, as opposed to sleep another twenty minutes.) When I actually did go to the bathroom, it was too late to apply makeup. Looking in the mirror at my face, with all its acne scars, those purple-black circles and my near-invisible eyelashes, I wanted to cry. I couldn’t believe I was going to school without anything to cover up my flaws. But it was too late now, so I was forced to go to school with a clean face.
The next few days after that were more of the same—an emotional torment as I stared morning after morning into my bare face, knowing that I was going to have to walk into school looking like this. I’ve never been all that outgoing in school settings, and my shyness peaked the first few days after my resolution—I felt embarrassed even talking to people, sure that they were judging my makeup-free face and positive that everyone thought I was ugly.
However, about halfway through the first week, I found that each morning I spent less and less time bemoaning my reflection and more and more time thinking about the day to come. Instead of hating myself in the mirror, I thought about what tests and quizzes I had that day, what assignments were due, any after-school commitments I had made. As a result, by the time I actually arrived at school, I was focused and ready to pay attention in class. By going makeup-free, I was ironically thinking less about my appearance, not more.
By the second week, I hardly even glanced in the mirror before walking out to my car. I found that I was actually more outgoing without makeup than I was with it. I came to realize that by forgoing makeup, I was also forgoing my insecurities. By not spending 20 minutes every morning scrutinizing my facial flaws every morning, I was also spending less time during the day scrutinizing my personality flaws.
I’m at the end of my second week, and you know what? I have no intention of going back anytime soon. At least for me, applying makeup means looking closely at myself for blemishes and then finding ways to hide them. Starting off the day looking for imperfections meant that the rest of the day I was uncomfortably aware that I had imperfections; wearing makeup damaged my self-esteem instead of building it up. And don’t get me wrong, there are definitely girls who wear makeup but are also totally secure in their faces without makeup. I’m just not one of them. Makeup for me has become a once-in-a-while sort of thing, a special-events-only privilege. Wearing it every day only made me all the more conscious of my flaws and all the more insecure about not just my appearance but also myself as a person. Without it, I feel so much more comfortable in my own skin and confident in myself. I don’t need to hide my flaws. I’m not perfect, and in not wearing makeup, I’m both conscious of that and okay with it. For me, it’s now so routine to not apply makeup that I can’t even imagine going back. I’m enjoying my newfound self-confidence—not to mention that extra 20 minutes of sleep in the morning. It may not have been easy, but I am so, so glad I gave a few weeks of makeup-free me a try.
