I was never a girly-girl. I just wasn’t born with glitter in my veins like some women are, but you’ll never hear me apologise for not wearing make-up.
Are you not well? Are you tired? You look very pale, are you sick? “No, sorry I just look like crap because I’m not wearing any make-up.”
How often have you heard or said this? Go on admit it, most of us ladies are guilty of apologising for our face, or lack thereof. I hate to break it to you gals but your au natural features do not warrant any form of apology.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not militant about make-up. Sometimes I wear it, sometimes I don’t. Some mornings I have the energy to get up a little earlier and slap on some foundation and mascara. On other days, I choose an extra ten minutes in bed. I’m lucky that I don’t work in an environment that requires me to be immaculately turned out all the time, let’s just say I’ll never work for an airline.
I’m not a slob or an angry feminist, I believe people should wear what they want be it on their face or on their body. I’d be the first to admit that make-up can make any woman feel better about themselves; it’s just not a prerequisite for this woman.
I also have double standards when it comes to cosmetics. I’d never intentionally go on a night out without my face on because I would feel incredibly self-conscious (well at least until the wine kicked in) and would probably avert my eyes from the mirror for the rest of the evening. However, on occasion, I have ended up in the pub after a hill walk or sporting event, literally covered in mud and with not so much as a lick of mascara, and been happy as a pig in the proverbial excrement.
I don’t consider myself to be either low- or high-maintenance. Neither am I no-maintenance or lazy, I just don’t want to be a slave to my make-up box. There is part of me that’s afraid to fall into the trap of always being made up, in case there is no way back to planet natural.
I don’t object to my freckles, or my redheaded deathly pale (no I’m not anaemic, thanks) pallor. It is only other people’s concern for my unaltered natural state that makes me question my choice. By not ‘making the best of’ my features am I letting myself down? Will I look back at photos in years to come and think jeez I really could have made more of an effort? Perhaps.
When the time comes, I will teach my daughter more tricks and techniques than a YouTube tutorial. I will show her how to stick on falsies without getting glue on her eyeball. I will support her make-up experimentation to a Boy George level. But I will also tell her that whatever face she chooses to present to the world is a case of “never apologise, never explain.”
