I am a twenty-three year old girl and I do not wear make-up. I usually joke with people and say the reason is because I am not willing to wake up early every morning to put it on. But that is not the real reason. I also joke that my husband David always says he will divorce me if I ever start to wear it. But that is not the real reason either. The real reaason is that I refuse to hide who I am behind all that goop.
When I was a freshman in high school, I had my first serious dating relationship with Jason. He liked make-up. He said that it brought out girls' inner beauty. It made him feel proud to have a girlfriend who took such pride in herself, to want to look attractive. The problem was that being in winter guard, where all the girls were forced to wear a ton of make-up to look uniform, I hated make-up. I hated the way it felt on my face. I hated not being able to run to the bathroom to "touch up" my face before next class. I hated make-up…period. Jason had a big problem with this. It was very important to him that I look my "best," and that meant piling on the make-up every day.
I did it every once in a while, because I liked hearing him tell me how pretty I looked. But then, during my sophomore year, he became more adamant. He became more daring during my sophomore year--he started to hit me. It wasn't about the make-up. It was a combination of other things--"normal" things that an abuser doesn't like: me talking to my male friends, me wearing jeans on a cold day (he liked skirts and dress slacks; no jeans, ever), me refusing to go out with him on a school night, etc. But the make-up, or lack of make-up on my face contributed to his anger.
Eventually, wearing make-up became a necessity. I had to pile on the foundation and cover-up to conceal the numerous bruises that would magically appear on my face each day. Blush was added to hide a hand mark that he had affectionately given to me. Lots of make-up was my only salvation from being "found out" by my parents.
So now I don't wear make-up. I remember the last time I wore make-up. It was December 28, 1994. Jason had come all the way to Colorado from New York to visit me and bring me a diamond engagement ring. I wanted to look pretty for him. And when he hit me that night before I went to work, I applied more make-up to hide it from my astute boss. So now I am make-up free. Every day. Not because I'm lazy. Not because I don't care about the way I look. It's because I don't have to hide anymore. I have a wonderful husband who would never even think of harming me, and I am proud of that. Make-up hides you. And for the first time in my life, I don't have anything to be ashamed about. There's nothing to hide. My husband David loves the way I look, and never wants me to hide my face with all that goop. I don't wear make-up because I don't have to be afraid of who I am anymore…and that is a great feeling.