Getting My Face Done.

Getting My Face Done.

A few months ago I got a free makeover at one of those fancy make up counters at Myer. I thought it would be fun and that was the only reason I did it. That and I was curious to see just how much effort it would take if I chose to do this every day, how many steps exactly? Answer: quite a few. Did you know there was a difference between face primer and eye primer? Because I didn’t. I am having a great time chatting to the young make up artist about how great Schnitze is and if I worked near one as she did, I would eat it everyday.


The make over had barely begun when a woman in her 50s came over to me and looked at me through the mirror reflection we were in front of. ”I just had to come over and say that even though you have only just started the make over I can already see a huge difference.”
Before I could bite my tongue not that I even tried, I was so angry that someone had felt the need to share what they thought of me. I was doing this for fun not because I felt a needed to.


”So you are saying I looked like total shit before?” I say. Make up artist says that the lady meant it s a compliment. ”I didn’t ask for the opinion of a woman I do not know.” I say. I felt enraged but kept my eyes closed and face passive as the make over continued. ”Have you had strangers come up to people you are putting make up on and saying stuff to them with no invitation very often?” I say as she is gently blending foundation. ‘No, actually.’ She says. We return to talking like old friends. In truth that is what I liked the most about the make over: the chance to get to know someone and hear about their life while also being made to look extra amazing.

The stranger and their need to share their opinion about how amazing a difference some primer and concealer makes on my haggard face changed how I felt for the rest of the day. It made me feel less like I did the makeover because it was free and something fun to do and made me look at myself far more critically. When the make up artist told me she was finished. I pretended to be in awe and excited at the result but I hated my face more than before. I could barely look at it. The woman who made the comment and then walked away probably thought I was an ungrateful little bitch and didn’t have any manners. She would be right. I did thank the make up artist and told her I hoped that even though I got the makeover for free that she still got paid. Because what I lack in natural good looks I make up for in concern for late capitalist structures that enslave so many.