The face was smeared with foundation, complementing the skin tone. It embraced the cheek bones which resembled two cherries dipped in a drink. The circled eyes stood boldly dressed in colours. The eyes lashes stood firm; each layer hid evidence, the make-up brushes covered the reality and made everything seem flawless. The sharpened eye liner covered the bags from underneath the eyes. The mascara created a fake illusion of happiness.
A veil that is sometimes worn daily sometimes not.
Enhancer of beauty.
An ambiguity and a paradox on its own. On one hand, it is viewed as an art that camouflages and covers our “flaws” or it allows us to play God and to add a few finishing touches to our facial appearances and it makes up a momentary mirror image reflection of ourselves. On the other hand, it enhances the physical features one already has and it makes them stand out even more. It allows them to be showcased differently by adding a dash of blush and shades of colour to the eyes. It also heals and redeems and it covers up our physical wounds before our emotional wounds have healed properly. Hence buying us time to be go through the emotions under cover.
But I don’t think that make-up should be the epitome or the definer of all beauty. It should not make us despise our natural look or make up our souls that we lose touch of who we are and we feel completely incomplete without.
Our dependency upon it shouldn’t upon it shouldn’t make us doubt that we are beautiful. It’s a great façade but a façade can only survive the weather for so long before it melts and the real person is seen.