I love applying makeup. I enjoy the process as much as the final result. The brush stroke, the sensation of a second layer, the transformation into a fresh face, and the enhanced appearance are all captivating. There is something so soothing about the meticulous, repetitive nature of gently dabbing a sponge on your face to blur the harsh edges, carefully lining your eyes to define the soft features, or the last swipe of lipstick to achieve the perfect clean line that pulls the look together. It’s both art and science: the pursuit to achieve perfect symmetry and beauty and the trial-and-error of finding a style that flatters your features. The process involves creative experimentation and self-expression. Honing is basically the ability to shapeshift into an alternate identity.
Perhaps this is why removing my makeup, especially when it has taken a lot of time to apply, feels bittersweet. Removing all your previous hard work leaves you with a bare canvas. Returning to a bare face brings a sense of relief. After a long day, my face feels tight, my eyelashes start to clump together like little spider legs, and my lips go back to being chapped and peeling; their earlier rosiness is nowhere to be found. Walking back home, watching the small town lights pass and illuminate the cloudless night sky, nothing scares me more than arriving home and washing off the remnants of a long, tiring day.
There are times when I catch myself studying my appearance. When I reflect on my appearance as if under a magnifying glass, every imperfection is exaggerated: the unevenness of my skin, the faint dark circles, and the flaws that no one else would likely notice but me. Starting college only intensified this habit. Surrounded by so many beautiful girls, each one seemingly effortless in her confidence and glow, I often found myself shrinking, silently measuring the distance between who I was and who I thought I should be. During those quiet routines, I began to perceive self-care in a new light as I cleansed away the day, applied serums with patient hands, and moisturized as if I were tucking myself in. It wasn’t about comparison anymore, but about care. Even in my most self-conscious moments, it serves as a reminder that I am worthy of gentleness and love, even from myself. Although sometimes I still don’t believe it, I’m trying to get over my fear of not only loving myself but also being able to accept love from others.
If you’re really going to hone in on the connotations and denotations of it all, I guess there’s something to be said about the symbolism of washing off the mask donned all day. People gravitate toward makeup for a variety of reasons, whether personal or professional. While experts are still torn over whether or not the beauty industry ultimately causes more benefit or detriment to self-image, makeup can still be a helpful tool for self-expression and building confidence (think brides on their wedding day). In a sense, when I watch the last remnants of beige-colored water whirl down the sink, it’s a reminder that the day is reaching an end and I can finally let out a sigh of relief, setting down my façade of invincibility and simply letting myself be.
I’ve repeated this methodical face-washing routine nightly for the past three years. Having experimented with an array of potions, gels, and balms, I’ve since concluded that my favorite method is just slapping whatever I have in close proximity onto my face. First, a cleansing balm or oil is gently rubbed into the skin. In my case, the process involves massaging it into my pores, as if I’m basting a Christmas turkey with garlic butter. Next, water is added to the mix to form a milky emulsion. Lastly, you finish off with a water-based cleanser, working it into a foamy lather before cleaning off all traces of the earlier oil. When I look in the mirror, I resemble a just-birthed baby: face soft and a little pink, hair sticking up in every single direction, with a giant expression on my face (and the occasional tears, if I accidentally get the cleansing oil in my eye).
It’s a reset of the system, both physical and mental. If I am preparing for an extended night of studying, I will pull my hair back with a large headband, prepare a substantial mug of tea, and get ready to settle in for focused work. If it is an uncommon early evening, I will perform my usual skincare routine prior to settling into bed with a book. Either way, having clean skin greatly enhances both experiences.
Now if you will please excuse me. I have to go wash my face