I’m not someone who places much importance on makeup; to me, it often feels like more of a hassle than a must-have. However, I recognize that makeup has its moments. Walking into a significant event without a bit of mascara and a hint of color would leave me feeling unprepared. So, I do try to keep the essentials on hand.
Recently, an event crept onto my calendar, prompting me to spruce myself up a bit. Upon checking my makeup stash, I quickly realized that my collection of Lip Smackers wasn’t going to cut it for the occasion. A swift trip to the local drugstore was the only sensible option.
I consider myself a pro when it comes to navigating the makeup clearance section—after all, I can make just about anything work for half price. As I rummaged through the bargain bin, a young lady approached me, introducing herself as the store’s “beauty consultant.”
As a regular at the clearance section, I was puzzled by what exactly a “beauty consultant” entailed. She eagerly informed me that she was there to address all my inquiries and assist with my makeup needs. Fantastic.
Then she veered the conversation into unfamiliar territory, saying, “Well, considering your level of aging…” Wait, what? My “level of aging” is simply that of a 32-year-old mother of three. This barely-18-year-old consultant was speaking to me as if I were ready for bingo night.
She continued to chatter about concealers and firming creams, but I had mentally checked out. All I could focus on was my so-called “level of aging.” I glanced at the dimly lit mirror, trying to gauge the “damage.”
Yes, I’ve aged. I’m a wife, a mother, a nurse, and so many other roles that have left their mark, contributing to my “level of aging.” In that moment, I came to terms with the fact that I can’t control it. The dark circles represent sleepless nights with a teething baby, my smile lines tell tales of finding joy in life’s challenges, and my flushed complexion is a nod to my Russian heritage. All of these elements shape who I’ve become.
Now, back to the “beauty consultant.” She hasn’t lived enough to understand how deeply earned my aging is. I managed to smile, grab my clearance eyeliner, and politely say, “Thank you, but no thanks.” I’m not interested in masking any part of myself, especially the signs of aging. I’ll stick with my clearance finds and my beloved Lip Smackers.
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In summary, while makeup can sometimes feel essential for special occasions, embracing the journey of life and its marks is far more meaningful.
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