(no subject)
I have a theory of why I always feel fugly. It's because other women (and I guess some men) wear makeup! Brilliant!
I bumped into a friend in the hallway before class started and we started chatting. I was saying something about how I always feel tired and old even though I'm not even close to being considered old, etc.; she agreed with my sentiment and brought up a woman's common enemy: eyebags. I looked at her and was like, "You don't have any!" Her response was, of course, "makeup covers it up." I felt a little rush of relief because this means I have hopes of looking relatively normal versus being the twenty-two year old trapped with a twenty-eight year old face. Although I am very perplexed with how she put her make-up on because her skin literally looks nude. I have much to learn.
Anyway, this experience leaves me with two options. One, start waking up ten minutes early each day to powder my face and sleep later ten minutes each day to wash the junk off; or two, continue what I'm doing now, which is being too lazy to do anything more than straightening my hair and pondering in front of my closet. (Those two things take effort, people, effort. Especially at an ungodly hour of 7:30 am.) And after five seconds of thinking about this, I've decided that maybe one day when I get too desperate I will actually squeeze those extra five, ten minutes into my day. But for now, I shall be fugly. Fug and the City.
I bumped into a friend in the hallway before class started and we started chatting. I was saying something about how I always feel tired and old even though I'm not even close to being considered old, etc.; she agreed with my sentiment and brought up a woman's common enemy: eyebags. I looked at her and was like, "You don't have any!" Her response was, of course, "makeup covers it up." I felt a little rush of relief because this means I have hopes of looking relatively normal versus being the twenty-two year old trapped with a twenty-eight year old face. Although I am very perplexed with how she put her make-up on because her skin literally looks nude. I have much to learn.
Anyway, this experience leaves me with two options. One, start waking up ten minutes early each day to powder my face and sleep later ten minutes each day to wash the junk off; or two, continue what I'm doing now, which is being too lazy to do anything more than straightening my hair and pondering in front of my closet. (Those two things take effort, people, effort. Especially at an ungodly hour of 7:30 am.) And after five seconds of thinking about this, I've decided that maybe one day when I get too desperate I will actually squeeze those extra five, ten minutes into my day. But for now, I shall be fugly. Fug and the City.