On outer beauty, part 2

I was fiddling around with a “lip-plumping” lip gloss on Saturday morning unsure about how it actually works when my aunt decided that we should experiment with make-up.

“Your skin is so dark, so we can’t use these colors. Hmm your eyelashes aren’t too long either.” I gave an exaggerated sigh of agreement as my aunt and I both took in my reflection. She looked at me and said quickly, “But that’s okay.”

“I know.”

In the afternoon as I was attempting to wipe off all the make-up, I gained newfound respect for all the poor souls who actually put on and take off these mysterious powders and chemicals on a daily basis.

At one point I furiously wiped at blemishes under my eyes but the dark splotches refused to come off. Then I realized that you can’t quite wipe away nights spent alone in front of a computer screen with a turnitin.com window waiting in a corner, nights spent looking for shooting stars, or nights spent asking “what if”.

Eyeliner reminds me of my mom. It looks a lot worse on me. On me I’m reminded of crying or despair or desperation for some reason. I’ll go without.

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