You read that headline correctly. I gave up wearing makeup for 40 days, during lent. Every year Lent comes around and I’m once again wondering what in the world I’m going to give up or commit to doing for the next 40 days. If you’re Catholic, you might relate. This year, though, I found myself staring at the mess of makeup on my vanity and thought to myself, “What if I didn’t have to deal with this for a while?”
Makeup is a creative outlet for me, yes, but not every day. Most days, makeup is a shield, a thinly-veiled attempt to embellish a face I consider mannish-looking and bland without it. So I looked in the mirror and decided it was time for a self-love project, and I packed my pallets, pomades and polishes way.
My expectations going in were as such: I thought it would force me to love my bare-face (it did). I thought maybe I would direct my effort in my appearance to other areas such as finally going in to touch up my bangs or learning how to braid my own hair (I did not). I thought I would miss makeup… a lot (only a little). I thought I might invest more time in my skincare routine to compensate for the lack of “face time” (actually, I didn’t have to, and so I didn’t). I thought I would take fewer selfies (yeah I got that one right).
In the beginning, what I appreciated the most was skipping makeup removal at bedtime, and the extra five minutes I saved not fussing over my eyebrows in the morning. I loved being able to relieve itches on my face without care. And while I didn’t go get that trim or learn how to braid my hair, I washed it more. I also made more of an effort in putting outfits together, paying more attention to jewelry and accessories.
If I couldn’t use makeup as a sign that I cared about how I looked, I had to find other ways to impress, and it really helped me become more in touch with my personal style. Here are some pictures of my new favorite outfit:
The first time I felt really self-conscious about not wearing makeup was at a party – a family party, but a party nonetheless. Usually, it takes me thirty minutes to an hour just for my makeup for events like that, but this time all I did was throw on a different pair of earrings and I was good to go. I looked fine, but I knew I didn’t look my best. Of course, people took pictures, and I hated myself in them at first, but after spending several weeks looking like this, I’ve grown used to them, and I’ve come to like them a lot more.
I’ve grown used to the lifestyle, too, and have even felt grateful for it at times. Snapchats are a lot easier to send when you don’t care about the best angle for your look. Breakouts are easier to navigate and tend to when you’re not suffocating them in extra goop. You can cry whenever you want!!! I suffered the loss of my beloved car, and as I cried and cried and cried for days I also found myself thinking, “Imagine how much worse you’d feel if you had worked on your makeup today?” Absolutely liberating.
I do miss the creativity, thinking of my face more as a canvas than a presentation of myself. And as I write this, I still have only a little over a day to go. Just thinking about Sunday has my mind racing about all the products I’m going to use. I’m even considering breaking out my favorite eyelashes.
In the end, it was a pretty successful self-love project. I hate my front-facing camera a little less, I believe that I’m not as mannish-looking as I previously thought and I value my dazzling personality a lot more than before to carry me in life. It’s a little hard to believe how much makeup was a part of my life, and it hasn’t even been that long. And while I haven’t missed it as much as I expected, I can at least appreciate it a little bit more, knowing that I don’t need it.