Take Me Swimming On the First Date

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Take Me Swimming On the First Date

Annabelle Lingbeck, Staff Writer

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I started wearing makeup just before the start of sixth grade when my mom handed me a tube of mascara and lip gloss and told me that it would be nice if I tried a little more on my appearance. That was the year of spidery lashes and embarrassing glue eye shadow, but it was also the year I started to realize that my face without makeup is a face I didn’t want to show the world anymore.

Flash forward to Junior year. I’ve found my makeup style: glossy lips, highlight, mascara, and maybe a bit of concealer under my eyes or on any acne of the day. It may not be much, but it prevents me from looking like a lifeless zombie at school, which is the goal.

Who am I without makeup? Well, I took a week to find out, not allowing myself to change a thing about my face. No mascara, no concealer. None.

Day One: It’s the Tuesday after a long weekend, so getting up and out the door is a bit of a challenge. I allow myself to hit snooze once and finally got out of bed and dressed for school. It was weird to not pick up a makeup brush or fill in my eyebrows, and it took all of my willpower not to put concealer on a blemish on my cheek, but I refrained. The first thing I hear when I walk downstairs to get breakfast? It’s my mom, telling me “You look tired,” and  “why don’t you go put some blush on.” Thanks, mom. I sure was glad to know there was a noticeable difference in the way my face looked.

Days Two and Three: Both Wednesday and Thursday pass without incident, I sleep in more and take less time in the morning. I found that wearing glasses covered how dead my eyes looked. Not really the best way to conceal the tiredness in my face, but it seemed to work pretty well.

Day Four: The last day! I definitely cheated and wore makeup to the football game that night, but other than that the day went normally. Another comment from my mom about looking tired, a couple comments asking if I was sick. The usual.

So, the past week I learned plenty about myself: how other people see me, how tired my mom thinks I look, and about just how many times I can hit snooze in the morning and still be on time to choir. Of course, this experiment was uncomfortable at first, but as the week went on, I realized that embracing my “I woke up like this” look was perfectly fine. Makeup or not, I’m still me, because I’m more than what everyone sees on the outside.

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