This is Makeupless

I’m playing that game with myself again. The one where I take all of my make-up off, stand in front of the mirror, and critique. Not in a mean way, mind you, but objectively. Factually.


I honestly don’t remember the last time anyone saw me without my make-up on. Even when I’m at home with nowhere to go and nothing to do I still feel the need to put it on, and it doesn’t come off until everyone else is in bed. Maybe I’m shallow for it. I don’t think that’s the case though. I think cosmetics are my security blanket.


Every once in a while, though, I feel the need to look at what’s hiding underneath all those layers of powder and cream. Just to make sure I’m still there.


It’s really unnerving. Like, doing this actually makes me nervous because I don’t always know what’s going to be staring back at me and if I’m going to hate it or not.


No facial primer. No liquid foundation. No cream concealer. No pressed powder. No contouring powder. No cream highlighter. No powder highlighter. No cheek stain. No blush. No eye primer. No pencil eyeliner. No eye shadow…not on my lids, creases, or brows. No liquid eyeliner. No lash curler. No mascara. No eyebrow pencil. No lip primer. No lip plumper. No lipstick. No lip gloss.


I’m not sure if I have rosacea, scarring from too many sunburns, or if my skin just reacts to everything I put on it, but my complexion is very pink on my cheeks and nose, like I’ve got a serious blush going on.


Ignoring that, I’m even paler without all the cosmetics, which most folks I know would say is impossible. Oh, but it is. It’s more than possible. It’s reality. If they saw me without my ‘face’ on, they’d think me to be on my death bed.


My eyes appear red-rimmed and raw, like I haven’t been sleeping. I do. Just not as well as I should. Whatever. It’s fine. Why do they have to look so watery, like they have tears in them? I do not cry, so why do they look that way? They turn down at both corners and have dark crescents that lie beneath. My eyelashes themselves look soft and lifeless. Ironically, those are the two facets I have to work the hardest at masking in my personality, and God, that can wear me out some days.


Heavy, blue veins run from the corners of my mouth and down both sides of my neck. There’s also a fine spider webbing of them over the entirety of my eyelids. I’m so self-conscious of them. I think they’re hideous, my veins. I honestly wish I could get rid of them.


I have wrinkles on my forehead. I’m not even 20, yet I have wrinkles. The ones up top are more recent, I’ve only just started noticing them. There’re heavy ones around my mouth too, where my beloved foundation likes to crease in ugly parentheses.


My face itself seems to pull down. Not like a frown, because even when I smile at my reflection I still see it. It’s like my face is sagging, or melting. It’s like…it’s like when you see a tired person, someone who’s physically and mentally exhausted, walking down the street and their posture is slumped and a slow shuffle is their gait. That’s my face without make up.


The angle of my jaw is too soft, as is the shape of my chin and the swells of my cheeks. Not enough definition.


I washed my hair with just shampoo tonight. It’s dry and clean now. No heat protectant. No straightening balm. No volumizer. No texturizer. No medium or strong hold hair spray. Half stays straight, half tries to curl thickly.


I look…God, I look frail, don’t I? Something hollow and weak that cringes below an empty façade. Downright fragile, like weak glass flirting with the point of shattering. Or maybe I just look human.