lifebeyondexaggeration

What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Stranger

Attack of the Pretty People March 27, 2017

I have a fear of makeup stores. Yes, I’ve worked in makeup before. Yes, I wear a pound-and-a-half of makeup for shows eight (or more) times a week. Yes, it’s just a store and I shouldn’t fear human interaction. But I can’t help it; I’m terrified of makeup stores.

There’s something about walking into the bright lights that show every flaw in your pores, and then the heads of the pretty people in black swivel toward you like they can scent easy prey. They descend like hyenas, telling you how they can fix the bags under your eyes, or the wrinkles you’ve never even noticed on your forehead, and you just want to scream, “All I need is eyeliner!”

I needed white shimmer eyeshadow for a show a few months ago, and I put off finding any for weeks. The concept of facing the black-clad pretty people was too much for me. Lucky for me I have a friend who is an awesome professional makeup artist. Really, she’s amazing, and you need to see her work. So I asked her to tell me what to ask the pretty people for. She laughed and said she could do me one better; all I had to do was go into the tiny Bare Minerals specialty store and ask for snowflake. So I did.

I walked right into that tiny store, and when a lady who looked like an elf asked me what I wanted, I said, “Snowflake!” a little too loudly to be considered socially acceptable. She asked if I wanted anything else and I said, “Just snowflake!”

And she put it in a bag, and I gave her money and got to leave. It was like a freakin’ miracle!

But then I broke my blush and my dark eyeshadow last week! (more…)

 

#GratefulAuthor August 17, 2015

My mother has always been a little indulgent. Not like buying my sister and me the coolest shoes that all the kids had to have, or buying me a puppy any of the million times I asked for one. More like my sister decided that she desperately needed to go to summer camp, so my mother became the camp’s arts director so my sister and I could go to camp for the summer. Or when I decided I need more dance classes and she found another studio where I could moonlight.

But my favorite was the day my sister decided she needed a bag of cement. My sister didn’t know what exactly she needed the cement for, only that it was vital that she make something out of it.

Most parents would probably have refused to by their thirteen-year-old a bag of cement, and even more would probably have been furious when that child proceeded to ruin a chunk of grass in the backyard, experimenting with the cement until that child managed to produce a thing that almost resembled really sandy art.

But the best part of the story is today my sister is a ceramic artist and art professor. And it all started with my mom sighing and buying my sister a bag of creepy concrete.

For me and writing, it was not so difficult to get the supplies to begin. (more…)