Last year I was truly obsessed with make-up.
After many painful vicissitudes in my life, I felt the need to reinvent myself and to move away from ungracious people and individuals who supposed that I was unable to survive without them.
I became miserable and I turned to make-up for comfort. I confided in make-up, so much so that I found that I couldn’t leave home without lavishly painting my face. Make-up defined me as a person back then, it got all the glory and the painted Lady became a dumb Idol…but what had happened to the real me, the one hidden underneath that oily mineral Mask? Where was she?
The other day my friend Cathy said, “I love your foundation, it suits so well” I smiled and immediately felt very confident.
That foundation was hiding a mass of acne, dark marks and the natural marks creation gave me. It took me 30 minutes to deal with the make-up face, I had to look like I had done yesterday, and I had to make that BlackUp sit perfectly on that face. I was afraid to face the world, the real Me must stay hidden. The Mask became me and I became the Mask.
As I said make-up defined me, I had to let people see who they saw yesterday. The real me was never seen.
Such heavy work, they say that one has to suffer for the sake of beauty. I came to the conclusion that this was my lot in life, to hide away for ever. Make-Up was a cumbersome task, a despotic slave master, it stole my time, and plundered my resources due to the excessive demand on my finances that make-up made.
Ladies do you know the cost of your spending on make-up? It is not like buying your daily bread. It is so much more than just bread!
I found myself facing the consequences of make-up and the Mask. I looked so ‘put together’ in everybody else’s eyes when out in public, I would put on my mask in the morning and wash it off again at night. I had been hiding my acne, and ‘oh-oh’! Makeup oils just added to the toxic equation.
My face was horrible, but in public, it wasn’t. It was funny how others were seeing a face of perfection while I could see the reality, the opposite face. Whom was I fooling exactly?
My face suffered with extra pimples, blackheads and clogged pores. It turned a darker tone. I was freaking out at home. I would tell myself to stop makeup, but continued the next day. I would say that was the last day but to no avail.
I was trapped behind the Mask my real face, the real me, what had become of her? The bitterness of life had stolen her away.
I knew I had to stop, I had to recover myself. My friend Numbe advised me to stop the other month but I ignored her.
“You have nothing to hide Selma,” she often said. And my Grandpa constantly tells me how beautiful I am.
Nevertheless, I wouldn’t, I really couldn’t listen. What did they know!?
Ending the power makeup had over me was getting harder, and my face was getting darker as was the captivity in which the Mask was guarding me.
I finally made a really solid commitment to myself in December last year that I was to stop makeup the next year. You’d be surprised I managed to stick to that promise, it wasn’t as difficult as I really thought it might be, at least not as difficult as a person trying to end an alcohol addiction.
The first month went well, positive results, I was battling the acne and I was on my way to victory! My skin became lighter; it was glowing, and was still glowing as time went on.
Such little time, little effort, and the result is a glowing face. I made a commitment to myself to the me inside the mask, I trashed the makeup, I cut down on costs and most importantly, I couldn’t hide this pretty face any longer.
I was finally able to face myself with all my perfect imperfections, I had realized that I was truly beautiful inside and so my face became the natural expression of how the Lord saw me as His girl, His Princess and how I truly was indeed!
I couldn’t rush anymore to the lavatory in the middle of my dinner date to see if my face is on point, rush to see if the mascara hadn’t blacked out on me. My confidence has been elevated now that I know that no one could wipe away 99% of my ‘beauty’ with a Kleenex. The power of the Mask was broken!
You don’t have to try so much! Less is more. Makeup is like a friend that will stab you in the back and smile whilst the knife strikes deeper. The Mask wants to entrap you by its foul deceit. I now realized that Cathy didn’t appreciate my face, but neither did she know or love the real me hidden behind the mask; she liked the fraudulent foundation that defined the look, that framed my reality trapped behind the mask. For her the plastic me was preferable.
In addition, I now agree with Numbe that I have absolutely nothing to hide, the real beauty of a quiet and a gentle spirit is truly cherished in the eyes of Jesus, which is all that matters. This is the me that we will all see from now on.
©Lady Twiiti 2017