Why I hate going makeup-free

I was once told I looked 'scrubbed' without slap, and the comment stayed with me. But I just went bare-faced for a week.

Hello! Happy Sunday morning. Thank you for being here.

This week, I’ve been pondering what ‘honesty’ means and why I called this The Honesty Box. It’s just over a year since I started this newsletter, and I’ve been exploring everything from my worst first dates to writing about the ways in which therapy has helped me, ranging from heart-opening to hilarious.

My first post explained what The Honesty Box is – it’s not fancy, glossy or put on, it’s about working out what’s really going on beneath the surface. I’m interested in the context of a situation, or why someone’s life experiences make them respond to something in a particular way.  

For example, it’s realising that a boyfriend shouted at me on holiday when he couldn’t drive a moped because he was angry with himself and couldn’t accept the embarrassment he felt, and so he blamed me. Or it’s seeing that a boss was a bully not because I was inferior, but because he feared I may be better at writing than him.

If I bump into anyone I know bare faced, I feel exposed and almost like a different person

And it’s realising that if someone says they’re lazy or that they procrastinate, it’s probably rooted in fear – what if I try to write a book and fail? What if I start a newsletter and it’s crap and no-one reads it? Oh well, I won’t bother.

A year on, I am proud of what I’ve written, and I want to dig deeper. I sometimes find it hard to articulate what I want or need, and that can range from my sister asking if I prefer feta or halloumi in a salad (lucky me with these non-cheddar choices!) and me not being able to state what I’d like (halloumi, always) for fear of picking her second choice, to working out whether a partner is fulfilling those wants and needs.

This is about being brave enough to be honest, or ‘taking a risk,’ in therapy-speak. I’m hoping to take more of these, and I’d love to hear about topics you’d like me to cover, or lightbulb moments you’ve had that helped you understand the nuances of life.

Today’s topic is less about emotional honesty and more about physical honesty, or why I hate going without makeup.

Baring it all

Some people look lovely without makeup, exactly as nature intended – but I think I just look exhausted. I remember the first time I stayed at a boyfriend’s parents’ home and his mother remarked “you look really scrubbed” as I bumped into her bare faced on the landing.

I’ve been known to ‘accidentally’ leave a little mascara on after washing my face at night, so I don’t look like a different human in the morning.

I have pale eyelashes and my skin can be blotchy, but luckily I’ve found a little makeup goes a long way.

I’ve worn it daily since I was about 16 – not lashings of it, but just enough to look not dead: at weekends I wear waterproof mascara (applied after using an eyelash curler, an absolute essential for my straight, blonde lashes), a smudge of eyeshadow applied with my finger, some tinted moisturiser (I mix up face cream with foundation on my palm, add a drop of liquid bronzer and then rub it all over my face), blusher and Vaseline on my lips.

Without makeup my face actually feels different. Maybe it’s because I can’t see the tips of my eyelashes when I blink without mascara, or perhaps my nude skin breathes in a new way when it’s foundation-free.

The no makeup selfie was exposing, but I felt way less nervous than times I’ve posted things that made me feel emotionally vulnerable.

If I bump into anyone I know bare faced, I feel exposed and almost like a different person. I wonder what they think of me. Even though I rarely wear loads of makeup, what I do put on seems to make a huge difference to my face as well as my self-esteem.

So, when I decided not to wear any makeup for a whole seven days, it was a biggie for me.

I spent the past week in Norfolk, on holiday with my mum, sister, brother-in-law and little nephews, who couldn’t give a hoot about my face, so it was a fairly easy entry point for not putting on any slap at all.

Things I liked about going bare-faced included saving time putting it on and taking it off and not having to worry about reapplying sea-smudged eye makeup.

I also liked the thought of having clean skin (bar sunscreen) for the week and maybe I’d emerge with clearer pores.

I barely looked at myself in the mirror as we were often out and about and used public loos on beaches where you get in and out as fast as you can.

Things I didn’t like included catching myself in the mirror and wondering who that woman was, a combination of young, unadorned eyes and older, with some lines. I also wasn’t a fan of photos: sunglasses were my friend here.

The Instagram cliché

Partway through the week, I posted a no makeup selfie on Instagram as a bit of an experiment (I know, I know, I’m probably about a decade late with this trend. But c’est la vie).

Sure, I’d had 10 hours’ sleep (absolutely unheard of unless I’m ill) and am a bit tanned, so it’s not the worst photo. I took it in a flattering light, but there are age spots, wrinkles and grey hair on show, all of which I usually seek to distract from.

It was also a bit vain I guess (yes, I looked at the ‘likes’), but I wanted to see how I felt about doing it.

Photos, are of course, way different to real life, and I took about 25 pictures to find one that I was happy with, so if I was going for the ‘real’ real me then maybe I’d have been even braver and posted one I didn’t like.

The no makeup selfie was exposing, but I felt way less nervous than times I’ve posted things that made me feel emotionally vulnerable.

Back to the slap

Not wearing makeup or doing my hair has also made me appreciate eyeliner, lipstick and hair styling products more.

Getting dressed up for a party yesterday was a fun ritual: the luxury of having time to put my face on while my hair dried naturally before getting dressed into a recent favourite outfit – a navy jumpsuit printed with pink hearts – wasn’t lost on me, and I’ll always love fashion and beauty products for their ability to give me confidence.

I wonder how other people feel about going without makeup? Feel free to drop a comment below.

I reckon I’ll stick with the slap.

Things I like

Continuing The Crane Wife

I’ve previously mentioned CJ Hauser’s astonishing essay, The Crane Wife, about the author’s reflections on a breakup and how she felt ashamed for needing to be loved. The essay went viral and Hauser recently published a memoir of the same name, exploring the different ways we love.

“The Crane Wife is a book for everyone whose life doesn't look the way they thought it would; for everyone learning to find joy in the not-knowing,” is part of the blurb on her website. I cannot wait to read it!

‘I love my body, except when I don’t’

This is the title of a post by writer Amy Abrahams about how she feels about her body after having had a C-section. She talks about her children, and how she enjoyed running around after them on holiday, not caring about how she looked in a swimsuit.

“They gift us the ability to stay in the present, we watch them inhabit their body, unashamed. We need to help them stay that way by trying to do it more ourselves,” she says. Hurrah to that.

I’m not a parent, but I’m keen to understand my friends’ and sister’s experiences of having kids, and to better understand children themselves. Amy’s newsletter Tiny Chaos is helping me do that.