After discovering and reading Leandra Medine and her essay, “Why I Don’t Wear Makeup,” I challenged myself. Saturday I wore no makeup while at work and when I went out later that day to a few local bars with S.
Staring out, it was kind of refreshing nixing putting on makeup during my mad rush out the door. It being Saturday, there weren’t a lot of people around the office but when I visited the washroom I caught myself off guard seeing my face so naked, decked out in freckles, with a bit of red on my forehead and nose.
Later, when I went out to Brooklyn to meetup for drinks and writing, I started to feel a bit self conscious about the no-makeup-me. But the moment the insecurities crept up, I thought, “why?” Why should I feel insecure in my own skin? Why do I care what I look like? Yes, I want to dress and appear respectable with an air of maturity when about town, but what prescription of beauty am I subscribing to?
Growing up, at least in my household, I was taught that to wear makeup meant to appear professional and mature. To go without makeup meant that I was still a child.
While I’d like to say that after my little experiment I would from this day forward go without makeup, I cannot. I found that I like wearing makeup; it’s a mask I can put on every morning to take on the world.
I challenge you to go without makeup for a day. You might just be surprised on how you feel.