I am a peacock.
I carry two mirrors in my purse because one is just NOT ENOUGH. I preen obsessively, I pour over my flaws and send emails to plastic surgeons to price fillers (The Male is adamantly against fillers so I doubt that will happen in my lifetime). I devote an hour each week to my eyebrows and the shape thereof (I developed trichotillomania at my last job in a call center due to the stress, and I’ve been coaxing my eyebrows to recover ever since). And I’m also prone to dropping more money than I want to admit on miracle creams to keep my face glowing and wrinkle-free.
Because I am a peacock.
Personally I don’t think my vanity is a bad thing. Shallow, of course. Disgusting, well, that’s up for debate.
I was 15 when my Mom took me to Walmart to buy cosmetics for the very first time. See, I wasn’t allowed to play with makeup until I turned 15, and going with her to select foundation, concealer, mascara, and lipsticks…it was a right of passage for me. On my 15th birthday I felt like I had officially entered the realm of femininity. Of womanhood. IT WAS MAGICAL.
Of course I’ve come a long way since then. I’ve graduated from CoverGirl to Giorgio Armani. My technique has improved too – I actually wear foundation that correctly matches my skin tone! I can blend! I CAN CONTOUR.
Beauty and the indulging in beauty products has been a part of my life for fifteen years. Can you believe it? Fifteen years! So naturally, my blog is going to touch on beauty as well. I mean, it’s important to me.
I’m not one of those younger Millennials who goes without a full-face of makeup and embraces my body as it is. I’m just not. While other younger Millennial girls are spreading the gospel of body positivity, I’m plucking my brows, I’m squeezing into a waist trainer one size too small, I’m picking my ADULT ACNE, and I’m huffing and puffing away on the stationary bike two hours a week at the gym.
I think it bears repeating: I don’t think my vanity is a bad thing. It’s just a facet of me.
I was gonna devote today’s post to a jar of foundation I splurged on after it rained sweet, sweet tax return money on my shallow self but I don’t know, I kind of feel like I should preface any beauty-related posts with this post. This introduction to my realm of vanity. Mostly because I want to explain that any beauty posts I write won’t be reviews, filled with swatches. I don’t do that shit anymore. I’m done with beauty blogging; I would rather leave that to the beautiful people who run successful blogs and YouTube channels. Instead I’m going to write about the shit I like and why I like it and why you might like it too if it’s something you’re interested in. I don’t feel like glossing over something that happens to be a part of my life; I don’t feel like excluding my interests from this blog because it doesn’t fit some theme. This isn’t an anxiety blog. This is a Sarah blog.
Those posts will be tagged with “beauty”, so if you don’t give a shit then skip it.
It’s not going to stop me from writing about it.
(Also expect Fridays to be about beauty and my obsession with my physical self, so if that sounds like it would bore the pants off of you then by all means skip my blog on Fridays.)
Alright then, I’m gonna go eat a kale leaf and bitch about it on Twitter. Kale is the devil’s lettuce, not marijuana. The more you know.