THE BLOG

Bare-faced Cheek

09/03/2015 16:11 GMT | Updated 07/05/2015 10:59 BST

A few years ago, I saw a counsellor who set me a challenge - think of something that would take me out of my comfort zone and do it, one day a week, for a month. I thought of the worst thing possible for me - going out without makeup on - and chose to set myself that task. I remember going to work, cringing inside, head bowed low ... and finding that nothing happened. I had to ask someone - a woman who always commented on everything I wore or my hairstyle - if she'd noticed anything different about me. She just said I looked a little paler than normal (that's something for me, as my default shade is white), but she had to be prompted to say so.

Afterwards, I immediately went back to wearing the makeup but felt really pleased that I'd completed the challenge. It made me question why I felt the need to wear makeup all the time and why I felt ashamed without it. Why I felt I looked hideous. I questioned it but I carried on 'using' -some habits are hard to break. I'd been wearing makeup since I was 14 - I was fascinated by my mum's beauty routine and loved trying things from the basket of goodies on her dressing table. I distinctly remember being told off by the deputy headmistress to take off my blue Rimmel eyeliner with Pond's Cold Cream in the girls' loos. And the matching nail varnish.

Years later, I remember telling that counsellor that I felt 'exhausted being me'. I didn't know quite what I meant at the time but it had less to do with all the challenges of a burgeoning career and more to do with the 'lady maintenance' that came with it. I felt I had to be perfect at everything - brilliant at my job, at looking good, at fitness, at home life. Of course, no one can be, and the strain had started to show. The daily armour of clothes and makeup were just a fact of life for me, and the ex-husband who had to wait for me to don it, even for a trip to B&Q at the weekend.

When the 'No Makeup Selfie' craze started two years ago, I posted a defiant 'NEVER' on Facebook, and then immediately wondered why I felt so strongly about not doing it. I often think my friends look more beautiful without makeup, and their selfies showed it. Why not me? I genuinely thought I looked hideous and it took me until last summer to take one of myself, where I thought, 'actually, I look ok'. But I didn't post it.

I only decided to pull back on wearing so much makeup when I watched the movie Boyhood, starring Patricia Arquette. In it, she plays a mother around my age, and the action is filmed in real time over the course of ten years. I was fascinated at how beautiful she looked, with minimal makeup and fresh-faced maturity, year after year. I thought I'd give it a try the next day and then didn't stop. I went to bars and clubs with just mascara and myself. Nothing changed. Same reaction from women and men, the world continued to turn, I felt more authentically me. I suppose that bit was the real change. I didn't need a 'smoky eye' to attract attention - confidence is the key.

It feels odd to finally like your face after forty-seven years on the planet, when undoubtedly it was much more pleasing to look at about twenty-five years ago. I remember liking my reflection when I was 14/15 then suddenly hating it at 17/18. Something happened to make me switch and I wonder if it was the realisation that there was a set of 'lady rules' I was meant to abide by. I realised with horror that I'd been caught not following them and scrabbled around to catch up. For heaven's sake, I'd been out in the world with nothing but lipgloss, a sweatshirt and stretch jeans - what was I thinking?! Give me my armour now.

I've not completely given up on makeup and nice clothes - I love fashion and beauty and will never stop loving them. What's changed is that I don't feel I have to do them. It's a choice. If I want to have a smoky eye, I'll have it - I just don't feel it's absolutely necessary to cover up my shrinking fortysomething eyes. If anything, it calls attention to them. I will look people in the eye with only mascara for cover and not flinch, but more importantly, I'll look at myself in the mirror and smile.

Hello you.

First published here: http://becauseicanblog.com/2014/10/23/bare-faced-cheek/