Nothing is easy about being a teenager. On top of all the insane body and hormonal changes, there’s suffocating anxiety to deal with. Add to that a raging case of “pizza-face” and you’ve got a human that’s as emotionally stable as a drunken buffalo. One way to deal with pimples is to spackle them in makeup. But how do you do it properly? Back in the Crusades, when I was a winsome tween, there were no helpful internet videos available, because the internet hadn’t been invented yet. I had to rely on my mother’s basic skincare and makeup routine and invent the rest as I went along. This, of course, resulted in some less than stellar looks. Good thing camera phones weren’t around then, either!
Who could forget the tangerine colored foundation that ended abruptly at my jawline, making my face look like a grumpy orange? There was also the thick white eyeliner that I thought was “so kewl”, or the vinegary vanilla body spray that gave me a headache. Then there was the glitter that I smeared all over my skin, which dried and shed a trail as I walked. They don’t call them “blunder years” for nothing! Don’t even get me started on the many, many hair disasters. From too-short cuts to orange streaks, I went through the worst. Once, I curled my hair and swanned off to school, full of confidence. I thought I looked cute! But imagine my horror when the boy I had a crush on saw me and said “whoa! Bad hair day, huh?” I. Was. Crushed. I ran to the bathroom and washed my hair in the sink, then desperately used the hand dryer to dry it. Ugh. The memory of that day makes me cringe. I snubbed said crush for the rest of the week.
I like to think I’m better at makeup now. It certainly helps that there’s hundreds of options available, instead of the two or three brands there used to be. I’ve learned more from internet videos in the last few months than I ever did during high school. Turns out you’re supposed to buy things that suit you, not just things that are popular! That doesn’t mean I haven’t fallen victim to false advertising. There was the “must-have” lipstick that dried my lips, which peeled in layers, and don’t forget the brand new mascara that stung my eyes and smelled like fish. What can I say, I’m a sucker for empty promises.
Molly hasn’t shown an interest in makeup yet (thankfully! She’s only seven), but when the time comes, I’d love to help her find what works best. I’ll tell her to blend her face makeup down into her neck so they’re both the same color, and that mascara should look natural and not like spider legs. She’s so beautiful she doesn’t even need makeup, but, if she chooses to, I can help her avoid the same mistakes I made. One thing’s for sure: she’s not allowed to wear body glitter. There’s no way I’m cleaning up that shrapnel from my floor!
