Wobbly Hearts & Makeup

Wobbly Hearts & Makeup


I’ve always been in absolute awe of finesse in makeup and grooming. I love the flow of a flawless skin or the glow of a base that seems near translucent.
Having said that, being the child of an absolute tomboy of a mama didn’t help. As much as I loved dressing up, it was just odd to even imagine doing anything remotely that in a house where only being part of a cerebral conversation got you winning points.
The love for makeup tucked safe in my heart I marched on through life avoiding makeup apparently.
I’m 38 this year.
38.
and am the biggest rebel ever to a rebel mom. So like double whammy? My parents weren’t the regular types. They were hippy-ish, fiercely rebellious and far more forward looking than most parents while we were growing up. Perhaps partially the fact that anything remotely having the potential to be superficial would never make their list was connected with rebelling so fiercely against the norms they grew up with. They ended up at the farthest end.
not wearing makeup was rebellion. Not wearing heels was rebellion. Not wearing jewellery was rebellion. Not conforming to the lahori norms of always being dolled up was definitely rebellion.
so yes. Never a good idea to even launch the notion that I was fond of makeup with rebel mama.
to top it off, my first ever boyfriend would not allow me to wear makeup to work because he suspected I wore it to “attract people”. Yes. That was also me. Once upon a time.

appearance where, was at the lowest ebb of importance in the house, growing up in a city as plastic as Lahore I was constantly reminded of the fact that I was dark and thus not as good looking as the other girls at school. By teachers. By folks who cast people for the annual play etc. All the time. I was super conscious of being dark but also knew I couldn’t even share this at home because I’d be laughed at for even being affected by this. Severely polarised this entire hoopla was.
So that’s how I grew. Never giving “looks” another thought, kinda holding back the urge to play dress up, covering it all with the nerd I was expected to be. One successful experiment I was.

I have been fond of Bina Khan since perhaps 2003 or was it 2004? She did my cousin’s bridal make up and back then she used to work out of a space at the back of her residence. I remember falling in love with the fact that I could still look at my cousin and know you was her! Instead of who dat?

quietly I started following her around on social media. Would quietly download her salon services pdfs and see the series she would do for a local newspaper. Always wanted to take her classes once she started teaching but time and opportunity never matched up. Was programmed to prioritise everything over and above looking good because whaa? You’re so bright, why do you even care? As if people can only be good in a certain area of life and that being good at your work or studies meant you’re terrible in everything else including looks.
she just launched her first ever online classes and I knew I had to get in.
Today was her first class.
when I saw my face with strong lines, dark colours and extremely light ones to learn highlighting and face sculpting techniques, I felt something churn inside me. There was a hollow feeling in my throat that moved to the pit of my stomach.
when we were asked to share our pictures for evaluation I chose to private message my teacher instead share it on the private group. I did eventually share it within the group because I made some typical mistakes and other people could benefit from knowing what not to do and that’s alright but the first ever jerk where I wanted to hide myself was unbelievable.
I am known to be the most confident, throwing caution to air kinda chilled out girl who doesn’t give a dime about what anyone thinks about her looks but somehow when I saw myself like this, the prepubescent child came alive and wanted to hide away with all the insecurities that I was never comfortable talking about nor was such a discussion welcome around me.
I am still feeling that pit in my stomach going around in circles. The reminder of the reality that was rubbed in my face when I was just a kid.

kaali

and That’s bad.
I haven’t felt this in DECADES. I kid you not. This remorse at looking at myself and accepting myself in the looniest of looks might take a while because my heart is still beating really fast but it reminds me. How deep set is what we expose our children to?

Here I am. Apparently LOVING my complexion for YEARS. Yet one departure from norms and boom, its back. The sick feeling of inadequacy by being dark.

it does emphasise that when raising a child, it is not just important to not comment or introduce these prejudices to your home environment but also create a space where they can come back home and share about the outside world being predominantly nitpicking, petty and judgmental.
Strong parents can have a vulnerable, weak child. Please don’t let your strengths overshadow and make a child so intimidated by your own stature that they can’t tell you they’re being bullied or they’ve had a bad day without you making a joke out of it.
Still can’t get my head around myself. Sitting here. Feeling feelings I thought were buried in my childhood. Like WTF. Theoretically I love my complexion. I literally love it on anyone other than myself but giving this attention to my own face makes me feel like I am about to break out in hives.

This Makeup Course will perhaps take care of all those therapists I would run away from.

To introspection and gorgeous makeup.