War Paint

Consciously, I know I am not going to war every morning I dip my magic wand into that tiny tube of ink-like goop and transform my eyelashes into little wisps of facial art. Of course, I understand that there won’t be any ceremonial dances or feasts that require special body markings and chants to go along with them today (tomorrow is always another story). Knowing this, I still maintain that this ritual of morning cosmetic prep work is essential to my daily well-being.

I’m positive there’s some quaint psychobabble out there to explain this “painting” habit; however, I detest such babble and much prefer to explore these things on my own. Remember the joy of opening up a new box of Crayola crayons? All of the beautiful colors (especially if it was a 64 count box) and the smell of fresh wax contained in such pristine points awaiting an artist’s hand. Anticipation of creation can be a very seductive feeling and, for the most part, this how I feel whenever I open one of my Lancôme palettes of pleasure. Perhaps crayons on paper doesn’t quite capture the feeling like perfectly executed liquid liner and lacquered lips, but I’m willing to bet I’m not the only one gets this rather juvenile enjoyment from applying makeup.

Smoky eyes, cat eyes, and (when I need a serious boost) high definition color block eyes are just a few of the masks I’ve mastered over the years. Like an old companion, my cosmetics have followed me through a variety of stages. There was the creamy matte lipstick stage, the purple eye shadow stage, the eyelashes painted in colors not found in nature stage, and my personal favorite; liner and shadow smudged so heavily that I looked like I slept in it for days. Somehow I felt that this last stage gave off the impression that my evenings were so exciting that I wound up in bed without a care in the world, much less taking the time for a freshly cleansed face. Well, that’s what I thought anyway.

War paint may not properly describe the affection I have toward my cosmetic case (who am I kidding; it’s more like a cosmetic closet in the bathroom). Sometimes it’s necessary to paint my face in order to face enemies like ex-spouses, ex-boyfriends, and ex-friends. Luckily, these situations do not serve as the foundation for my air-brush foundation. Rather, my affinity for makeup comes from the fact that it makes me feel put together and confident. And, if by some chance I’m feeling tribal and particularly bad-ass, I may just leave the house bare faced and free.