Making up our Imperfections
My teenage years were when I was the most self-conscious I’d ever been, and I wouldn't say I liked how I looked. I wasn’t allowed to have makeup, so I used to try and cover up my face with skin-coloured Zinc. At the time, one of my good friends wore makeup daily, and I used to call her mud face. She called me Zinc Face, and we would refer to each other by those names when we wrote letters (before mobile phones and social media).
What was I trying to hide?
My freckles and redness. The redness was probably the biggest, as I’d often get asked if I was sunburnt; once, a customer at work asked, “Does it hurt?” “What?” I replied. “Your sunburn”, oh *roll with it and pretend it is sunburn*.
Apart from wearing skin-coloured Zinc in grades 8 and 9, I’ve never been one to wear makeup daily. I can’t be bothered; too much time and effort, and I’ve always been active and had active jobs, so I’d sweat it off anyway.
However, going out with friends or on special occasions is a different story. I’d always wear makeup (I remember sneaking some of Mum’s foundation sometimes before I had my own). Over the last ten years, if it were a glam function, I would pay a professional, and I found a woman I loved who did a great job of painting my face and making me feel like a million dollars while still feeling like I looked like me.
I can’t confidently say it’s an age or maturity thing where you suddenly stop worrying about your appearance. I know plenty of women my age who wear heavy makeup daily and get Botox, lip fillers, plastic surgery, etc. I do not judge these women, but it saddens me that many of us change our appearance to be more comfortable with ourselves and likeable to others.
In 2018, I had my eyebrows microbladed; the main reason was I had a scar on my left eyebrow and, therefore, had a gap in my brow that I would shade in with a pencil. The thin eyebrow era was the rage when I was in high school, so I plucked my brows so thin that you could barely see them. Nowadays, it’s the thicker the better. Apart from having the ink retouched in 2020, I haven’t done anything to my brows since, and I love how well they frame my face.
In March 2021, I had a skin treatment called photodynamic therapy. It was recommended by the plastic surgeon who cut out the BCC (Basal Cell Carcinoma) from the side of my face in November 2020. He suggested it as a precaution because I’m “ too young to have a skin cancer”. It was sold to me as you’ll come in, we will put a solution on your face which you will then activate in the sun for 2 hours, then you must avoid the sun. You should be able to go to work because you won’t be outside. You will experience redness and possible skin crusting, but once that falls away, your skin will return to “normal” in 7-10 days.
The process seemed okay, and while they did apply sunscreen on my face before the solution, I was hesitant about spending 2 hours in direct sunlight. I had taken 2 days off work, and on day 2 I had redness, but otherwise, I was okay. It was on the 3rd day when it hit me; I was uncomfortable, couldn’t sleep and was shocked at what I saw in the mirror. I remember going to the gym at 4 a.m. because I couldn’t get back to sleep, but it also meant no one else would see me. My saving grace was that we were still wearing masks due to the pandemic, so at least half of my face was covered when I went to work. Surprisingly, not many people commented, and if they did, they asked if I was sunburnt, and I explained to them that I’d had a skin treatment for pre-cancerous cells. After getting through the work day, we had the Canberra long weekend, in which I spent the entire weekend in my room, not even wanting my housemate to see how bad my face looked. My tears flowed intermittently as I coped with the discomfort of the crusting skin and how I looked as a result of my skin reaction. My family visited me, bringing me lunch one day, which I found confronting because I didn’t want to see anybody or, more, I didn’t want anybody to see me. I remember my mum asking if she could take a photo of me to show my older brother; I asked her why? and then burst into tears, telling her that I didn’t want anyone to see me the way I was. I was thrown by what was happening and did not expect to feel or look like this. It took a good 2 months for my face to return to normal; many of my freckles were now gone, and my face was smooth like baby skin. After about 4 weeks (I think), I contacted the clinic and asked them how long the redness lasted because my face was still pink. They offered me 3 complimentary healing light treatments and told me that my experience was incredibly rare. It was only once my skin had healed that I was able to share my photos and experiences with others. I wanted people to know that while my experience is a worst case, that the worst case can happen and that these clinics should warn you about it. The only real validation I got was when I did some googling and found a video on YouTube with a woman in the USA who had the same experience I did, right down to how casual the clinic was about the solution they applied and that they should say, “We are going to put acid on your face and burn it”.
While I would not wish this experience on anyone, I am grateful for the growth and acceptance that resulted. I think it has impacted how I feel about myself and how I use makeup - to enhance my features rather than hide. I even like and appreciate my freckles and make jokes about my redness, not because I feel uncomfortable but because it’s part of who I am.
Last Friday, I attended the R4R Gala, which I only decided to attend the day before. While I thought about contacting Sarah to see if she had any last-minute availability, I decided that I didn’t need Sarah to paint my face and that I could enhance my own features.
Why do people feel the need to wear makeup to look beautiful?
We often see it in the performing arts, where if you are a stage performer or on TV, you will have your hair and makeup done. The image of striving for “perfection”. In magazines and social media, photo editing is used to erase any “imperfections”. Filters, photoshop, remove this freckle, touch up those lips, sinch in that waist, etc. Does this contribute to how we feel about ourselves? Is it a social norm?
It starts from a young age in activities such as cheerleading, gymnastics, and callisthenics, where young girls wear lots of make-up, red lipstick, fake tans, and perfect buns. Are these cultures giving them the message that they aren’t enough as they are? That they have to wear all that to be perceived as beautiful?
I think we notice ‘imperfections’ about ourselves more than other people do. But perhaps we also need to change the culture of commenting on someone’s appearance. Unless a person tells you they are sunburnt, don’t ask them about their “sunburn.” A tall person already knows they are tall; they don’t need you to tell them they are or ask if they play basketball because they’re so tall that they should. Maybe we’d all be less self-conscious about our differences.
I love a good frock-up and glam event. I will get my makeup done by a professional again, but not because I’m trying to impress anyone or hide my natural face as I did in my teens and 20s. I’ll get it done because it’s the kind of pampering I like to do for myself; I find it relaxing. I can sit there and have someone else style my hair and apply makeup that enhances my eyes. I am also comfortable going without makeup, but I love how a bit of eyeshadow and lipstick can change or enhance the look of your outfit.
What don’t you like about yourself?
Has the dislike been enough for you to make a permanent change? Were you happy with the permanent change? Did it feel like you thought it would?
Have you ever changed your appearance to win the affection of others? Did you get the outcome you hoped you would?
Do you think we grow more comfortable with ourselves as we get older? If so, why do you think that is?