“I think they should have biggest slut as an eighth grade superlative.”

“And who would get that?” I inquired.

“Well, I mean, look at your makeup.”

I have been wearing makeup ever since I can remember -- if you can call Lip Smackers makeup, which I did when I was five years old. I have many memories of sitting on the floor of the bathroom, watching my mother apply her makeup. I observed every step of the process, from her carefully selecting a soft brush, to dipping it in a brightly colored powder, and finally sweeping the color on her eyelids. The eyeshadows were beautiful, in every color of the rainbow, metallic, satin, matte… The brushes were like magic, transforming her face the second they touched her skin, like magic wands. A swipe of mascara on her long lashes opened her eyes as wide as the sky, and a touch of lip gloss completed the look. All I wanted was to learn how to do the magic with my face, so I sat in awe every day as she got ready in the morning.

My mother started small, and appropriate, giving me Lip Smackers, clear mascara, and pale pink blush. They were my prized possessions. As I got older, I was allowed brown mascara, and, finally, when I was 12-years-old, I could wear black mascara.

I started wearing makeup daily when I was in middle school. My mother encouraged me to do so, teaching new techniques, knowing how much I loved it. My classmates wore mascara, eyeliner, and nothing else. Anything more was too much -- “slutty,” according to some. I distinctly remember being told at lunch one day that my makeup made me deserving of a "biggest slut" eighth grade superlative in the yearbook. I was particularly happy with my makeup that day, and instead of being able to feel proud of the work I had done, all I wanted to do was wash it off.

That was not the first or last time that I’ve received negative comments about my makeup. Often, I hear that I don’t need makeup. Although this is usually meant to be a compliment towards my appearance, it’s usually upsetting. For me, makeup is not just to make myself look pretty. It’s art. Makeup is an art I get to do every morning. Thirty minutes to myself where I listen to music and create a masterpiece on my face that I get to display to the world for the rest of the day. I don’t wear it to cover up my face, I use it to show my artistic and creative self. I don’t believe a single man or woman on the planet needs makeup. Everyone has beauty. Makeup reveals that beauty. It’s a creative outlet for self-expression. It’s stunning art. And no one should ever be shunned for doing their art, whether the canvas be a sheet of paper, a mound of clay, or a face.

Makeup gives me confidence, it makes me feel amazing, able-to-conquer-anything amazing. Everyone should experience what makeup feels like, no matter how much you don’t need it. It may just be magic.