And Nobody Fainted

It's a Scary World Out There
Originally uploaded by *B.G. Lewandowski*.

Here's the routine. First I use concealer under my eyes, then a little around my nose, chin and on any "imperfections" I may have. Follow that with pressed powder, some blush, and a bronzer. Then I fill my eyebrows in with pencil or powder or both. Next I need eye shadow, one or two colors, some eyeliner and at least two coats of mascara. Next I either put on lip gloss or use a pencil and lipstick or a pencil, lipstick and gloss. Then, I can show my face to the world.

Yes, I am addicted to make up. There has not been a day in fifteen years that I didn't put on a full or nearly full face of it. The love affair started at thirteen, when I was introduced into the world of Clinique. I remember the woman at the make up counter gave me a makeover and then my father, always a shopping buddy, (people always ask, and no, he's not gay!) bought what she used on me. I came home with lavender eye shadow, to bring out the blue in my eyes. My Father's then girlfriend, someday to be wife and now ex-wife, snorted "Purple eye shadow!?" and laughed. It was then that I knew I would hate her with all my being, and from that day forth, I wore purple eye shadow for a decade, just to piss her off.

Today I went to work out. "Work out" sounds better than, "today I took a moderately paced, if not sluggish walk on the elliptical machine for thirty minutes while I watched all three televisions, showing CNN Headline News Israel/Lebanon conflict, HGTV's Design on a Dime and AMC's airing of Jaws Three. I was also reading US Weekly and Woman's Day and checking out the hot 80 year old guy on the treadmill. No, I'm not kidding, there is this man. He defies nature. He is so old, but really handsome. Like some kind of ancient movie star. I don't have a crush or anything, that would just be odd. But I stare at him lot because who the hell is 80 and hot?

After my intense workout, I went and took a shower in the lockeroom. I dried off, moisturized, etc, etc... and then it hit me. HOLY CRAP! I forgot my make up!!!!! I almost panicked. I froze, what will I do!? I haven't not worn make in public OR in my home for that matter since I was about fourteen! Not only did I have to leave the fitness club sans mascara, I also needed to get to the grocery store and do a week's worth of shopping while my sitter was still there.

I looked in the mirror. I stood there alone under unflattering lickeroom lights. In front of a row of sinks, with little wall pump soap dispensers and a bottle of Listerine and Dixie cups. I looked in the mirror at my self and said "Oprah would call this finding my 'true spirit', I can do this."

SO I marched out of that locker room, wimpy lashes and all. I went into the fitness director's office and said "Dora, do you see this, do you see what's missing!?" And Dora said, "what, your contact lenses? I didn't even know you wore contact lenses." To which I replied: "No, my make up, I forgot my make up!" By the way, just so you know, I don't wear contact lenses, I have no idea what Dora was talking about.

On the way to the grocery store I prayed, yes, humanist me, prayed to God that I wouldn't see anyone I knew. It was fine in the end. It really was. I kept my head low. I got a few stares, but I think it was more due to the giant puff that had grown on my head in place of the usual mushroom because I failed to dry my hair after "working out".

The moral of the story is, nobody will faint if they see me without make up. And frankly nobody gives a care what I look like at the grocery store or anywhere else for that matter. Only I care. Thank you Oprah, for helping me find my true spirit, which includes bonnebell and at least two coats of mascara.