Living the Glam Life

I dreamt about eyeliner last night. And the eyeliner led to shadow and an eyelash curler and a beautiful smokey eye look. I know, I'm dreaming about eye makeup. Creeper right.

To be fair I am, and was last night as well, in the one place that I associate more with glamor, makeup, and primping than anywhere else on the planet. No I didn't spend the night in a Sephora, I'm in a hotel. I'm in a Hilton in Springfield, IL. Glamorous, no?

Growing up my whole extended family on my mom's side would take family vacations together around Christmas. We'd spend a week in a hotel in some place that was usually only two hours away from home and act like tourists. Shop at the big mall, eat at all the restaurants we could eat at back home, hang out in each others rooms and gorge on Christmas cookies. Mmm. Good times.

(Here's where this nostalgia ties in): These vacations were my first REAL exposure to makeup. Sure I'd seen my mom put on lipstick and mascara before, but she was never a makeup woman. She wore it but it was as clinical and necessary as brushing her teeth. But on these vacations I would watch my grandma apply her makeup and it was a whole different world. She would sit on her hotel bed, the sheets crisp and white, and she would spread a small towel next to her and unfold her makeup onto it, careful not to dirty the linens. She would carefully and lovingly apply her makeup, sitting back against the head board, sipping her coffee and watching the news. It was the most glamorous, sophisticated thing I have ever seen. She looked like Marilyn Monroe in a matching pajama set (often times in animal print) and her platinum blonde hair. And I fell in love with makeup, with the act of putting it on, with the art of being glamorous in such a minor daily routine.

All that to say that being here in this hotel room it is almost unnatural to not be blushing and curling eyelashes and and lining eyes while sitting on this cloud of a white bed.

Interestingly, though, even putting on my measly pittance of makeup, I still felt darn glamorous and beautiful walking out the door this morning.

I Feel Pretty

No I don't. It has not gotten easier to feel pretty or beautiful without my array of colors, correctors, and highlighters. I keep waiting for my "come to Jesus moment" and it's not happening.

Interestingly I find myself compensating in how I dress. Cute trendy clothes I haven't worn in ages either due to pregnancy weight or because of my SAHM status (I'm a clothes hoarder, I don't like to "waste" outfits on days at home) are finding their way out of my closet and onto my body. I'm guessing this isn't much better than a makeup covering.

The point of this particular intentional self-denial is getting fuzzy. Who cares if I need help feeling pretty. Who cares if I try to convey my hoped perception with makeup. Who cares if I am seriously financially and emotionally addicted?

I miss eyeliner.

Peaches and Cream

I have always had clear skin. Or clear compared to people who deal with acne. To me "broken out" is the two noticeable pimples on my forehead. That I currently have. That my puny concealer is failing to conceal. That my oodles of untouched makeup would make disappear.

I hate no make up month.