I tried wearing makeup for a week and it didn’t end well

I am not one to usually wear makeup. In fact, I only wear it if I have somewhere to go that I deem important enough to look presentable, which isn’t often.

This isn’t some statement against makeup. And it’s not that I think I look ‘flawless’ without it. I think I look undeniably better with makeup than without. The reason I don’t wear makeup is not some “I’m naturally beautiful, makeup is poison” B.S.

No, it’s because I’m lazy as fuck.

I barely give myself enough time to brush my hair in the morning, let alone put on a full face of makeup. The truth is, I don’t mind looking shitty if it means I can get 20 more minutes of sleep.

However, I realized that perhaps I should put more effort into myself. I deserve to look and feel my best, right? So I challenged myself to wear makeup every day for a week.

This is me without makeup. Nothing special, just the canvas we’re working with.

I attempted to dive into this makeover journey with an open mind, but I admittedly maintained my belief that it takes too damn long. There are so many steps. I began by getting the worst over with: foundation. I had to straddle the fine line between applying too much and not enough to get good coverage without looking cakey. Despite my initial reluctance, I will confess that after I applied foundation, my face had a smooth and matte finish unfamiliar to my oily/dry combination skin, and I already felt better about myself. As my imperfections faded, so did my insecurities.

Eyeliner is horrible. If you can apply eyeliner in a thin, continuous and bilaterally-even fashion I salute you, because I sure as hell can’t. My eyeliner always looks like I applied it eyes-closed with my non-dominant hand.

But the mascara magically makes everything better. My tired, lifeless eyes become alive and bright and all is good once more.

After a few finishing touches, badabing badaboom, I was done. Okay, that really wasn’t so bad. And hey, I looked better and felt better. I was ready to take on the day.

My friends are not used to seeing me all made up, so when I walked out of my room with all that shit on my face, heads turned and “oh wow, you look nice”
and “where are you going?” comments came flying my way.

I felt insecure and found myself hiding my face. I thought, “you’re right I have nowhere to go, what the hell am I getting dolled up for?” But then my makeover made me feel motivated to do something with my day, obligated even. I couldn’t let all that time, effort, and product to go to waste. It was as though putting on makeup was the catalyst that sparked a productive day.

I typically leave the house looking like I just rolled out of bed, (probably because I did), so I usually try to avoid seeing people I know at all costs. But with my face all primped and pampered, I wasn’t as nervous to see people in public. In fact, I hoped I would. I was like, ‘everyone look at me, this is a rare occurrence I need witnesses!’

I was shocked by how much more confident I felt. “I love this, why don’t I do this every day?? This week is going to be a breeze!” I thought. And for the next few days, it was.

I was going places and doing things, all while feeling like my best self. I wasn’t as afraid to make eye contact with the cute boy at the coffee shop, or document my existence photographically.

Things were great. I felt great. I felt beautiful.

But then, as the days wore on, the process of applying makeup every morning started to take a toll on me and my face. It became less fun and rejuvenating and more tedious and burdensome. My eyes started to feel tired and my pores suffocated. I just wanted to stay in bed and watch Netflix all day, and I didn’t feel the need to get done up for that.

While at first makeup pushed me to do things, in the end it prevented me. I didn’t want to go to the beach, work out, or do anything that might involve sweating for fear of smearing the makeup that I put so much time into.

I also hated having to be careful with my face. It was as if I had a “Do Not Touch” sign imprinted on my forehead. I couldn’t wipe my eyes without turning into a raccoon or Taylor Momsen a la Gossip Girl.

If I dared to shower with makeup on, I would come out looking like a Snapchat filter.

Not only did I resent putting on makeup, but I hated taking it off just as much. At day’s end all I wanted to do was brush my teeth and go to bed, but instead I had to endure an extra 10 minutes of scrubbing at my eyes to relinquish my lashes from my mascara’s grasp, ultimately to no avail. It was like my makeup was never fully off.

Around day five of this, I was at my breaking point. I could not put any more shit on my face. So I didn’t. To me, looking better was not worth the effort. “Beauty is pain” had never rung truer. I failed. I could not wear makeup for a week. In my eyes, the costs outweighed the Benefit mascara.

I tried to convince myself that I look fine without makeup. I mean, I’m not Blake Lively, but it is what it is. Besides, I can’t look that different with and without makeup, right? But when I look at side-by-side comparison pictures, my dreams are shattered and I’m like ‘FUCK, really? I look so much better with makeup. Why world, why?!

I’m only upset about this realization because I know that it is still not enough to convince me to wear makeup every day. Instead, I am just stuck with the knowledge that I could be looking much better while choosing to do nothing about it.

Whatever, true beauty is defined from within anyway, right? So whether you’re like me and have trouble adopting makeup into your everyday routine, or whether you couldn’t imagine going a day without it, just know that your beauty is not defined by what you do or don’t put on your face. We’re all beautiful in every single way. Christina Aguilera said so.