This article is written by a student writer from the Her Campus at Ithaca chapter.
This semester I started a dating a great guy. Our relationship is interesting; we are complete opposites and exactly alike at the same time. It makes for never a boring moment, and although sometimes we — and by that I mean I — get excessively annoyed, we have been able to deal with that fact that we are both mature 5-year-olds. We support each other in most everything we do, and always find a way to have a few laughs in the most serious of moments. I’ve been able to trust him with everything, and this week I decided to trust him with my make up for the Ujamaa banquet, an event closing off Africa Week here at Ithaca College.
Since the makeup was for an event, I did not just let him go on a wild rampage with my brushes to make me look like a Pablo Picasso painting. I gave him brief instruction and direction and prayed for the best. I also want to add that he was watching Netflix as he was doing my makeup, adding to my ever-present anxiety.
I handed him the primer, and he asked: “Is this foundation?” If the container didn’t clearly show that what it contained was transparent, I probably wouldn’t have laughed. He started spreading it all over my face, making a thick greasy layer and completely forgetting to blend it into my skin. When he turned around, I fixed it a little. I then gave him my foundation and a brush. He was careful about blending it better than the primer, to a point that it took him forever to feel that he got every inch of my face covered in my “poop looking cream.”
After that, I handed him my basic eyeshadow brush and pointed to a gold shade, telling him that went on my eyelid. I felt that brush was going everywhere it shouldn’t, and I feared looking like a raccoon. We moved on to eyeliner, and I could feel my heart racing little by little. I could just see the line mid-eyelid in my head, or too thick, or too thin and simply not there.
After this step, he thought he was finally done, and went on to being transfixed by his show, only to be bummed when I told him we were only halfway done.
We moved on to lips, my pride and joy. I could feel him overlaying them and then overfilling them.
After that, I briefly explained how to contour my nose and bronze my face, and hoped I wouldn’t look like a blob of brown/golden glitter.
Once he finished, I looked at myself in the mirror to find out that my boyfriend can do makeup; it looked natural and very well done, almost as if I would have done it (I refuse to admit it looked better than when I would have done it). My lips were overdone, but nothing a quick Q-tip couldn’t fix.
Overall, this was a bonding moment for the both of us. There were points where I just wanted to take the brush away and do it myself in fear of him messing up a routine it has taken years for me to perfect, but I would catch myself and think *If he were messing up, he would probably let me know.* When he was doing my eyeliner, there was a moment where he said “Oh sh*t,” and everything around me just crumbled. I could just picture myself having to do everything over in less than five minutes so we could leave for the banquet on time.
For him, he finally understood how much effort it takes to look decent when trying to do makeup. I don’t think he’ll roll his eyes when I get annoyed for messing up my eyeliner ever again.