Hells no. Next. Not enough? Aw, huckleberries.
No, I don’t wear makeup. It isn’t my métier. It’s just something I don’t think I need. You look the way you look. You can’t change that. Make up, for me, just seems like you’re trying to cover something up. Face, probably.
One tries not to judge people, but there are a myriad of pressures weighing on many people’s shoulder’s these days. You get a sense that perhaps people are emulating magazines and celebrities, if not consciously, maybe on a subconscious level. But nobody needs it, though. Be proud of the crappy skin you have. When it comes to covering up flaws, I’ve never once had a thought that I needed makeup to hide them. Not because I’m gorgeous, but because I simply don’t care if people hate the way I look. Their problem, not mine.
But you can also wear makeup for covering spots or for any, erm, cults you’re involved in. Covering spots? No. Cults? Moving on.
Even when I was a little boy I didn’t rummage around in mum’s makeup bag like all little boys do. I have never worn makeup whilst drunk because I have never actually been drunk. I’ve never been into Kiss. And I don’t have older sisters, which I thank the Lord for, because if a woman has a little brother, you just know she’s gonna put makeup on him.
So no, I’ve never worn makeup.
(I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. To do so, you can leave a comment by pressing the bubble on the top right of this post and scroll to the bottom of the new page to where it says ‘leave a reply’. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks)