Some mornings you wake up early and are just inspired. 7am, up and at it and there in the bathroom it struck. I brushed my hair, tied it in a bun, wet my face and finally plucked the two wirey whiskers which emerge regularly from my chin. I also took the opportunity to locate the one long hair that grows from the place where my jaw meets my neck. Hair removal Monday! With my face so close to the mirror and my eyes completely clear from the full 9 hours of sleep I now get every night, I noticed some brow hairs straying from the already generous allotment of face land I have granted them. I plucked the few rebel strays and then gave my brows a slow, luxurious brushing. “Why would you brush your eyebrows?” someone once teased me. Why wouldn’t I brush my eyebrows? Even as I write this I stop to run the middle finger on each hand, over each brow simultaneously, twice, and a then a third time. So soft... The real question is, why haven’t I been brushing my eyebrows everyday of this quarantine? Plucking regularly is something I stopped long ago, when Frida Khalo made her come back and I discovered the magic of makeup and the power of a thick brow. But brushing helps them grow.
Caring about how I look has been a slow, life-long process and is very much still developing. My lack of attention in this area was due to a couple things. First, and I say this with the regret of someone who doesn’t know how lucky they are to have something until they lose it, I didn’t need to. I have a pretty face, which has given me more attention than I was ever comfortable and plenty pf people who want to be my friends because they thought that because I was pretty I was one of them. I do regret never having the confidence to own it and use it when I had it fully. To be completely literal here, I never needed it and I still don’t. This pandemic, if anything proves that none of us really do, unless of coarse we are going on stage.* When you hear someone say, “you don’t need makeup” it implies judgement. If your skin is flawless, smooth, even in tone you don’t need makeup. If you have blemishes or inconsistencies or tired rings below your eyes, or your features don’t fit the mold, you need it. You need it because you need to be attractive at all times. But… do I though? Do I need to be attracting a mate to procreate with at all times? Do I need to inspire others everyday either in their sexual fantasies, or jealousy or desire to gaze upon beautiful facial landscapes? Do I need to do that? Is that really my job? Am I getting paid for it? No? Ok then, there it is! We’ve gotten to the bottom of it and I’ve managed to dig myself out of a “literal” hole. Phew.
The other reason I didn’t wear much makeup or put much effort into the way I looked was that I know I could want that. Only recently have I developed the desire. In my teenage years, when I should’ve have been safely experimenting, finding myself and making mistakes, I was not barred. My foster parents were strict and cheap. I wasn’t encouraged to shop for my own clothes and if I did manage to get my hands some article of clothing that didn’t come from them as a Christmas present or as a hand-me down, they would find a reason to confiscate it or it would just disappear. I remember my foster parents especially not liking “spaghetti strap” tank tops; they would say I looked like a slut when I tried to wear one and would make me change. Now I make sure to wear them often and I always feel like an extra naughty little slut :) When it comes to hair removal, I did take matters into my own hands at certain times in adolescence. I gave myself very short bangs in the 7th grade. Again, I was behind here; this is a lesson I should’ve learned when I was three, but again you don’t realize the gift of a loving parent to help you learn things unless you didn’t have one. Instead I had to suffer through Junior High with 1 inch bangs that sported a wave, parted down the center and flipped like a mustache on my forehead. Throughout high school my eye brows were also incredibly thin, because when I started plucking I couldn’t stop and the pain felt so good. But that was ok, it was the 90’s.
I haven’t put makeup on in weeks, its expensive so its nice to save a little and… I haven’t had an occasion. From January up until the pandemic I was out almost every night, either at show, bartending or at another social thing. Not naturally social, I’ve now come to fully accept as I relish in isolation, all the going out was exhausting. So I learned to take my time getting ready. I’d put on music and the more time I had to twaddle with my face, the more I found I enjoyed it and the more prepared I felt going out. It wasn’t about the look exactly it was about taking the time to put the care into the look. It was doing the armor of self-expression.
So why this morning’s inspiration? Whats the occasion? Well I have more hair in more places right now than I think I have ever had in my entire life. My man comes back to town today and I had planned to groom a little but I am also tempted to leave it. I am tempted to change absolutely nothing for no one, ever again. I am not going to spend an hour in the bathroom before I pick him up from the airport. Its not that kind of occasion. I don’t want to put makeup on for someone, I want to put it on because I have a reason to to take the time. Because I have something I need to prepare for. But chin whiskers? Now those, are my base-line and I will continue to remove them for as long as I can grasp tweezers through my knobby arthritic fingers.
*I strongly believe that every local comedy scene would greatly benefit if its troupe of male identifying comics put a little effort into their appearance and at least applied some basic foundation once in a while.