Thursday 6 September 2018

Let's makeup



Makeup, slap, glitter, glam, it’s never been me really. I always like to have a go, and I usually surprise people on a night out, with just a modest amount of eye makeup. I learnt everything I know from bored lasses on the Urban Decay counters in various department stores, who were very happy to show me how to do things to fake being a proper girl when I need to be. It’s handy for weddings and things because it often means that people don’t recognise me, and I can slip by unnoticed at first at least. It has its downside though, 

all this clean skin, no foundation business. People sometimes think that I’m being evangelical, when they tell me that they’ve got a spot, so they have caked it in makeup. They look at me, I say nothing. This isn’t smugness, I just don’t really know what to suggest. They then look at my face and say things like, look at you, such clear skin, it’s not wearing makeup. I don’t know how you manage it. To be honest, it’s really easy. Far easier than putting your face on before you go out. I just have about 3 extra snoozes on my alarm, then get up, dash about getting dressed, have a wash, put deodorant on, or more on in case I’m not sure I did it the first time. Then I might look at myself in the mirror. I check my hair isn’t too ridiculously cockatoo style and go out. My face is just my face. The biggest problem I have is that when I choose to put some makeup on, even a coat of mascara leaves me in peril of looking like I should be performing at the Birdcage. Eddie Izzard could easily be my spirit animal, or stunt double, if I’m not careful. Nowt wrong with him at all, but I’m usually imagining Audrey Hepburn as I slick on some lippy!
You might be wondering why I’m telling you this. When I was having my chemotherapy, I learnt about an organisation called look good feel better. My Macmillan nurses told me about them, and I signed up for a session with them. They offer support and advice around looking good, providing free cosmetics and workshops for how to apply your makeup while you’re having cancer treatments. I was sceptical. I don’t want anyone drawing on my eyebrows, I’d already had a few offers of sharpied “scousebrows”. I don’t really wear makeup. I was a bit sick of talking about being ill to be honest, so to sit around for the day with a stack of women wallowing in cancer treatments and my lack of eyelashes wasn’t my idea of fun. It was against my judgement that I signed up. I thought, well, it’s free makeup. Who doesn’t like a freebie? If I don’t want it, I’m sure my sister will have it, she’s as real girl, and we’re similar colouring. 
The day arrived and I found where I was going to be, it was a small meeting room hidden away in a Manchester hospital and not wildly appealing. I walked in, feeling a little nervous. What if I’m the youngest? (I was). What if everyone is pitying and arm strokey? (They weren’t). What if I look awful, like a bloated steroids clown when I’ve got the makeup on? (I didn’t). I sat down and thought, well I’m here now. let’s see what happens. 
What happened was this. We all said hi to one another, we were given a bag of cosmetics which broadly suited our complexion, fair for me of course. Then the lovely women who ran the course, demonstrated some makeup on themselves, each other, and some of us. They showed us how to gently draw on our eyebrows, how to use eye shadow to take away from the fact we have few eyelashes. How to apply lipstick in shades which suited us, and which could be worn just to feel better. All the cosmetics were really posh, far more expensive than I’d ever bought, and in shades I wouldn’t have chosen, but which suited me well. I couldn’t believe how much taller I felt with my makeup on. It wasn’t me, but it wasn’t a bloated ill woman either. It really did make me feel better. Other women around the table told me how great I looked, and I told them too, and I meant it, they really did look wonderful, vibrant and womanly, invincible in their cosmetic armour. 
We also learnt how to take care of our fragile, sensitive skin when removing our makeup, how to cleanse well, and which products would be effective and safe for us. I learnt that it doesn’t matter how sensitive your makeup remover is, if you get it in your eye, you’ll know about it! I’d joked about wearing my best clothes all the time, and my plan to now always wear nice pants, because my bras, pocketed to fit my prosthetic, were so ugly. I hadn’t realised how much difference my appearance would make to me. I’d assumed that I’d write off that 6 months and afterwards get back to normal. I learnt a lot about myself that day, and about how nice it is to be told that something about your appearance is appealing. I try and keep that up, not glibly, but to say when someone looks good. I also try and dress to make myself happy, I like natural fabrics, and patterns, and whilst I don’t want to look too bonkers, I wear what I like. 

I do the pants thing too, by the way. Life’s too short to not wear nice ones. Plus, should a bus hit me etc…

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