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A Life Without Makeup

Please enjoy this gallery of my makeup-less face (there are tears in some pictures because most of the pictures of myself in my gallery are pictures of me crying…)

It has been an absolute BATTLE not feeling ugly because I don’t wear makeup.

This is something I’ve semi-talked about before. When I was younger, around middle school, I felt like an absolute wimp because I was one of the girls who knew nothing about wearing makeup. Of course, it didn’t help that, at the time, a lot of makeup companies weren’t making products to work with my skin tone.

Now that those companies are trying to prove their inclusivity, it almost feels like it’s too late. I don’t even know where to begin, but I don’t want to subject myself to Sephora’s new color matching tool.

For the longest time, I thought I wasn’t beautiful because everything about my face was exposed 25/8. People could see a pimple forming, a long-term acne scar, the very normal upper lip fuzz. I used to hate when people would point out a new mole or freckle on my face; for a while, I couldn’t tell the difference between a freckle and an acne scar (I realized some of them were freckles when I stared at my dad’s face, saw he had some, and figured out I had the same genetics).

The same way I’ve recently learned to be comfortable with my body, I’ve also learned to be comfortable with baring it all on my bare face all the time. I don’t feel as insecure or love-less as I used to.

Like many women, I thought I wasn’t desirable by men because I had no clue what the appropriate tool was for concealer (makeup tools and terms will forever confuse me). As I’ve started dating myself more and realized I will probably be forever single, I’ve come to accept my lack of makeup skills. In fact, it’s something I’ve learned to love about myself, and I love that I know people who are FANTASTIC at makeup and are always willing to help.

Not being able to list makeup as a skillset is not a problem. As long as I can look in the mirror and love my face, it doesn’t matter if a man does. It doesn’t matter if someone has something to say about it. It doesn’t matter if a third eye randomly decides to grow in between my eyebrows.

I thought being able to do makeup was one of the keys to finding and falling in love (yeah, my brain needed some serious reconstruction), but I’ve learned my time simply hasn’t come yet, which is okay. Makeup is simply meant to be fun, and I appreciate and love all of the women who are fantastic at doing it; y’all are the biggest confidence builders of my generation.

Still, it’s equally important to be confident with your beautiful, bare skin.

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