Of Missionaries and Makeup

A wise man recently asked me what I've learnt from my parents. He was too witty and intimidating, so my answer became incoherent and silly. But walking in the rain today, massive clutch under my aching elbow while grappling umbrella and drink, I suddenly knew what my parents have taught me.

As full time Christian workers, every cent they have had over the last 30 years has been prayed for, and given to them by friends and supporters. My university education was prayed for semester by semester, and just in time the money always came. Our family lives by faith, so money has both been something we've needed, yet never worried about.

The lesson I learnt from this wasn't to be miserly--quite the contrary, we've always had more than enough of everything. We don't just have a car, we give people lifts home. We don't just have nice dinners, we often fill our house with people and feed them. We've been able to give away computers, cameras, money, clothes, makeup--even back-heating pads--to people who have less. No, the lesson I learnt from my parents was not to be penny-pinching or stingy.

What I learnt was that our money is not earned. It is a gift from God to supply all our needs. So while we don't have to worry about having needs met, we don't spend the gift carelessly.

Learning that money is a gift, I've been able to take an uncommon easy-breezy approach to job-hunting. Because money is not my main consideration, I'm free to do anything I want to.

But learning that money is not earned has its struggles too. It splits me--the me that grew up in my missionary family, and the me that is growing up and making money in this alien world.

The me in the world is a beauty addict, unstoppable in my quest for new and better products to buy. 
The me in the world begins to believe that expensive things are more beautiful--even if it's a Dior lipstick case. The me in the world listens to her friends growing up with expanding paychecks, splurging on things that transit them into womanhood, and wants them too. The me in the world buys expensive presents and meals for loved ones and doesn't regret them.

But the Family me feels the stab every time, because money would never be spent in such a careless way if it was given, not earned. The Family me knows that a brand name means nothing. But the me in the world wins every time.

The people who earn their thousands or ten thousands every month--they've worked for it, and so they will feel that they can spend it any way they please. So can I, technically. But always there will be that inward dissonance when I do, because of family. So much so that I know I wouldn't buy a designer bag even if I earned enough someday. I would feel my parents' eyes on me. The price of a bag is what we prayed to receive in the mail in uncertain times.

A gift. And so when I receive an expensive gift, my heart aches for what it would cost to my family.


So there I was today in the rain, massive clutch under my elbow. Too caught up in what would look nice to carry something more practical. Too caught up in appearances to remember how to spend money the way I was taught, until now. 

With this, I go on another shopping ban--no new products until I've run out of everything. Another thing: no makeupalley, no youtube gurus, not the slightest temptation to feel like I *need* yet another thing I have so many of. No more. (God help me.) The aim? To step out of the house as myself, not as the things I've bought. To be thankful for the simple things, and wise enough to know what's a good buy and what's not. To give and receive presents that are worth more than their names.

I am the daughter of a blessed family; I cannot live like I am not.

Three muses for this season.

I've been feeling a little dissatisfied with the way I look. I know, I know, what am I talking about, I'm ungrateful and unthankful. But a lot of girls feel that way when they're trapped by makeup.

Some brave college students in Texas have launched a No-Makeup Tuesday to "Redefine Beautiful". Their argument being that our highly airbrushed, made-up society has tweaked the standards of beauty to unrealistic standards, and we need to bring those standards down to earth. By not wearing makeup.

I wouldn't take part in No-Makeup Tuesday, though if I looked as naturally powdered as they did, I would. Neither am I upset about having to wear makeup, because to me makeup is a fun ritual, a little magical for the way it transforms a face.

But I do feel trapped by the rising standards of beauty these days. All these twenty-one-year-olds in lookbook-inspired outfits, faces so enviable with their lash extensions, Benetint-ed cheeks, MAC concealer, Kiehls lipbalm, Paul and Joe lipsticks, and OPI nails. Beauty has become what we buy.

And so while I am hardly brave enough to do No-Makeup Tuesdays, I will ban myself from buying anything beauty-related for.. three months.

That's a big deal for someone who bought 10 items in the last two weeks--a myriad of lipstick, nail polishes, masks, essence, mattifyers, and too many potions for any of them to have effect, piled up on each other and suffocating my skin.

No more stepping into watson's just to buy a toothbrush, because that will inadvertently lead to me testing colors and creams on the back of my hands, and walking out with two new Japanese products. If I have to wait for someone to arrive, I will not wait around the following places: MAC, Face Shop, SkinFood, Sephora, Watson's, or any beauty department.

When I surf the net in my idle daze, I will not stumble upon my favourite youtube-gurus for product reviews, or be influenced anymore to try new lightweight foundations, $35 eyeliners, or be led to thinking that lipsticks should be collected like country erasers.

It's all really fun, to collect and try and be excited about the New Product's effect. But in order for me to stop feeling trapped by Worldwide Beauty Improvement, I need to get storebought beauty out of my brain. The muses above demonstrate an attractiveness that cannot be store-bought, the same kind that makes me turn to watch a woman and want to be her. It's not a flawless, pretty look--it's a raw attitude, a lived-in sort of recklessness.

Three months, here I come!

We had a makeover event at the store the other day, which was a whole lot of fun for me and the many young women crowding around the makeup artist. Makeup is for the person wearing it more than anybody else, really. The journalists came in bare-faced and hopped off the makeover chair saying "now I can face the world", while I thought they looked more interesting without so much gloss. It could be just me; I was the one who drew in dark eye circles for all the characters in a book.

But to the woman wearing makeup, that concealer is absolutely necessary. She would rather die than leave the house without it. To her, her eyebags are as big as the Eiffel tower. To her, the new loose powder she bought has given her a completely new face. To leave the house without mascara? It means no lashes. No brow powder means no brows.

The men? Can't tell the difference.
I was fretting over the too-dark brows the makeup artist gave me, and only my female colleagues could sympathize. The man colleague looked sympathetically all over my face. I know he didn't know what I'd just gotten done.

I used to be awkward about putting makeup on in front of people, but now I know the dramatic difference is only apparent to me. When I put makeup on in front of k, he watches in fascination like a kid watching his mother cook. "What is that? Then you just do that and it sticks on your face? What does it do? Why can't I see? What's the difference? Today your eye..lashes? shadow? liner? is very thick. So funny, your lashes are hard. I can't feel mine. I don't have lashes. They're very short."

Me: Aren't you glad I don't wear false lashes everyday?
k: ..?? .. It--- makes no difference to me! You can wear if it makes you happy!

I don't know if it's a good or bad thing, that for all the effort girls put into their upkeep, it doesn't really matter to the people who look at us the most.