Make-up is an expression of creativity and a form of art. I believe that to be true, but this is what happened when I didn’t wear make-up for 30 days.
For the past couple of months, I’ve been experiencing some interesting changes. The things that once mattered to me, don’t. I can’t distinguish when the change happened but a part of me gathers it is because I am turning 30 soon. Eight months to be exact. Other components have been a deciding factor as well.
The idea came to me one day out of anger. I was angry that as I spoke about a topic that weighed remarkably heavy on my heart, someone stopped me to ask me the color of my lipstick. I don’t know what made me more angry, the fact that out of EVERYTHING I was saying, they were more interested in my fake lip color or that I cared.
I am constantly torn between, how I want to be perceived by others, and not really caring and doing as I please. It’s a daily struggle to be honest. Naturally, I am not concerned with what people think about me, but I do carry some sort of burden of being represented correctly.
We live in a world where the word feminism is interpreted in various ways. I consider myself a feminist, in the true sense of the word. Both sexes should be treated equally – nothing more, nothing less. When people see me or speak to me, I want to be taken seriously MORE than anything in my life. In fact, I want it so badly, I come off aggressive most days. I became aware of this thanks to my ex (they’re good for something I guess.) He’d always tell me to take it easy, that it was never that serious, and although he was right, I couldn’t help but to think, you’re not a woman, you’ll never get it.
I started to define these moments as losses. That if my hair was too polished and my outfit was too perfect then the matters I was speaking on or the important things I was trying to accomplish, were going to get lost. I became so obsessed with being heard that I didn’t want to be seen. I didn’t want any sort of distraction. I wanted my knowledge and intelligence to be the core of me. ‘What you see, is what you get,’ if you will. So I took away the pink lipstick and opted for a fresh face, discoloration and all. Tucked my curls away, and pulled back my hair. Needless to say, my sisters went on to tell me I looked like a walking zombie.
Initially, I hated the way my dark circles were the first thing you noticed and I absolutely loathed the, “are you tired?” question. As the days passed, I started to like the extra thirty minutes of sleep in the morning. I started to like my bare skin and my hair pulled back. I started to realize, I was still me. The strong willed person who doesn’t take any bullshit. Concealer or sans concealer. I know make-up doesn’t define me, it never had. That was never the question I battled with. I wanted to take away this superficial layer, and be my authentic self. I wanted people to ask me more significant questions. I wanted to engage in more meaningful conversations.
I concluded, it wasn’t necessarily the make-up that was the issue, but perhaps the people in my life. I was getting “rid” of the wrong thing. I also recognized, its all how YOU define it. Interest in beauty and fashion doesn’t diminish my intelligence BUT I will be damned if you presume that interest in such matters define me as person entirely. I just defined a new me.
I am MORE than my well thought-out outfits. I am especially MORE than my face. I am MORE with my pink lipstick and I’m also MORE with my dark circles, and I am REALLY more when we talk about the POTUS.