RAMBLINGS: Makeup and its perils.

Just a note, this is my 2nd time writing this. For those who caught a glimpse of the draft which I posted earlier this morning... Well, there are going to be some repeats.

And another note that is completely off-topic. I love True Blood, really. Love it to bits. But I really don't think it's healthy for a baby to be in it. :\
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When I was 14, I had a friend, Cindy, who started wearing makeup. Being the ever inquisitive sort, I asked her why she wasn't ever without makeup and she replied that it was addictive. I didn't get it. I mean, there were just layers.

But now, I completely do.
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Where looks are concerned, I have the world's most inferior complex ever. Having had battled with acne and being made aware of the incredibly button nose that I have been 'blessed' with (Daddy, I still love you. Even though it's your nose and even though, you told me I have an ugly nose.) at a very young age, I eschewed mirrors and cameras for the longest time.

Then, The Body Shop's kohl eyeliner came knocking on my door. I was totally rocking the Avril Lavigne look. Heh heh. Next, the mascara decided to drop by in the form of a gift to the mummy. But the mummy, in my opinion, is not a girl because she does not do makeup (Ha! I'm only kidding, Mum. Just in case!). So it came into my possession and gosh! With just a swish and a flick, my sparse Asian lashes became a luscious, overgrown forest.

By the time I was done with my first year of university, I was wearing makeup full-time. Well, almost anyway. I try to keep things real by doing naked faces when I'm with my family and very close buds.

However, for the past couple of days, I had to do naked faces with people whom I usually meet completely made up. And gosh! You can't imagine how completely self-conscious I felt.
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And there, I stood.
Looking at my reflection in the train's window panes, darkened by the outside tunnel.
And I could see every flaw like I was in daylight.
The non-existent lashes, the dark and very pregnant eye bags (Though everything was in black, though everything was in just one colour. Uniform.)...
Still, I could see them like I was in daylight.

I typed the above into my phone, before I slept last night. I know it sounds very raw but I don't want to edit any of it. I want 'my feelings' in those words to be exactly as they were last night.

I think it's sad that I feel this way. That I need some powder and some liquid to feel remotely pretty. And I am sad because things shouldn't be like this.
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You know how there's a saying that there are no ugly women, only lazy women. I don't agree with it. I think people who do naked faces do actually know how to love themselves. I'm not saying that those who do otherwise don't. They do love themselves. But those naked faces people know how to genuinely love themselves.

Haha. I can't seem to find the right words to get my thinking across but I hope you get at least, a centimetre of it.
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Ah, I'm completely not in the 'right mood' to talk about this. Yes, that's how I roll, by moods. Haha. I guess I will have to shelve this for another day.

Anyway, I finished 'Girl, Interrupted' by Susanna Kaysen today. But I think I need to read it again because it's a book, which I think, needs to be read in one sitting, and not be interrupted by train stops and... Life. I shall watch the movie tomorrow night, though.

Tonight, I'm going to retire with 'Parisian Chic: A Style Guide by Ines de la Fressange'.
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And as a reaffirmation to my very haywire thoughts (In accordance to what was written in the 'draft' entry.)...

Today, on the train, I saw the most Parisian guy that Singapore's ever going to get. He was cute and most courageous, on every single level. He had the front portion of his hair gelled up into a poof. He wore a striped shirt and skinny bermudas. His skin was flawless. And oh yes, he had on his geeky spects!

I was most tempted to type 'I love your style!' in my phone and shove it into his face. But being the stupid and shy Singaporean/ Asian that I am, I didn't.

And yes, I'm regretting it.

People need to know when they are appreciated. And people don't show that appreciation enough.

P.S.: Oh yes! Shoutouts to Michelle, author of Lola! Thank you for your lovely comment about my personal entries! I didn't actually think anyone would read them. (: