Monday, May 16, 2011

Foundation (and eye shadow and lipstick) for a good life

Somehow, I have gained 10 pounds since my trip to Boston at the end of March.

I discovered this a few weeks ago, and after trying to stretch out all of my shirts, decided I should probably do something about this.

It's not going well.

Did you know that poor food is a hell of a lot cheaper than the healthy stuff? We're in a lean (definitely no pun intended) time of year right now, and grocery shopping hasn't been as awesome as it usually is. (Dear Michelle Obama: if you're looking to cut down on childhood obesity, make lean cuts of meat as cheap as Mac and Cheese.)

So, I've decided to do something drastic.

Anyone who knows me knows I have, ahem, a surplus of self-esteem. I also have the opposite of anorexia - I think I'm thin. Combine the two together, and I'm a self-proclaimed unstoppable hottie.

But it's time to face the facts: triple chins just aren't "in" anymore.

So, as a way of dialing back the self-esteem a bit (one could even say punishing myself), I have decided to deprive myself of a wonderful pleasure I partake in each and every day.

I'm not wearing make-up until I'm down at least five pounds.


Do I look natural?
Here's why: I've decided that when you're the size of a circus barge, no one is looking at your face anyway, so why put the effort in? And trust me, this is like big time sacrifice for me; I love my make-up. Sephora and I have become BFFs recently. And did you know Yves Saint Laurent makes red-head mascara (for $30 a pop)?

My love of makeup stems back to grade school when I was unsuccessful in convincing my parents to let me wear eyeshadow to school. In second grade. Later, my older cousin Jennifer would give me her cast-off makeup (and this was the late 80s, so you know it was colorful and toxic and awesome).

By the time I'd worn my mom down convinced my mom to let me wear make-up, I had already accumulated my own personal arsenal of coral and blue shades. Which I paired with my bright red lacquer lip gloss. Oh yes, I was the toast (and looking back, the entertainment) of 7th grade.

I'd gotten my act together in high school, and stuck to the neutrals that us redheads are sentenced to.

My senior year, my best friend Janie and I were in the same AP English class, and one day, she went on a rant about make-up. It went something like this:

"Girls and women shouldn't wear make-up. It's so fake and never looks real or good. I can't believe women have been painting their faces like this for centuries. It's time to stop. I just think make-up is awful and no one should wear it. Except for you Jess, you just look weird without it."

(Years later, she is the one that took me to my very first Sephora, so I think her mind may have changed; at least about the rest of the general public.)

So, my uneven skin tone, dark circles, small eyes, light eyelashes, and freckled lips will be munching on salads and turkey burgers. And scaring people at the local SNAP fitness with my "weird" looks.

And if this doesn't work, I may just give up showering. It takes a village, you know.

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