Makeup
I had to get my passport photos taken for my Norwegian passport today. I'll be heading down to Anchorage in a few days, hitting the Norwegian ... consulate type thing (as it really is to small to call it that) and get my one and only true ID. I've been living and showing off my permanent resident card now for years, as my Norwegian passport was out of date, and it will be nice to show that yes, I am over 30, and therefore entitled to by my own Sake or rolling tobacco.
Anywho: why on earth do these pictures have to be taken in the dead of winter?!!! I look like shit, and so does everyone else in Fairbanks. We have a week, and possibly two more weeks, of -35 to -60 temperatures. It's December. It's dead. There is at best 3 hours of "sunlight". White, soggy, and cold. Not the ideal situation to take permanent pictures having to be shown around to all and everyone for the next 10 years.
So I decided it is best to hit the makeup stand. And it made me feel oh, so silly.
My mothers contribution to my education was as follows:
It's interesting how I de-emphasize the masculine features of my face. Fascinating really. But you have to be a navel-focused bastard to be fascinated by your previously routines of applying color to your face.
Women are lucky that we can apply, can adapt our face, too look like something that we don't really look like. And get away with it. Many of my male friends have been in need of makeup every now and then. Some rouch, some eyeliner. A hangover, after me making them drink with me all night, and having to go to work: Vola! Some cream to your face and no one suspects you haven't sleept all night. Morning glory and birds chipping and all that good stuff.
Norwegian women aren't really into makeup. That has been my defense in battles. I am Norwegian: therefore I'm allowed to dress masculine, behave in what you perceive as a masculine manner, and it doesn't say anything about me - just my culture. I can hide behind that. But I've sure had my schooling.
And today you could be finding me doing the minimal: applying the white liner: to make my eyes look all healthy and big, the concealer, the foundation, the rouch, the fucking eye shadow, the powder, the mascara, the lip gloss.
And I looked good. As good as it gets. Unlike my teachers I can make it look as if there's nothing there. An invisible layer of beauty.
But it feels phony. It's a mask over my face, my ears, my neck. Doesn't allow the skin to breath. Doesn't allow me to breath.
But how would I breath if I where male. I would for sure be an effeminate male. I would for sure have leftover behaviors of years and years of schooling. How to sit, how to place your hands, how to.... everything.
Would I be wearing makeup if I where a man?
Anywho: why on earth do these pictures have to be taken in the dead of winter?!!! I look like shit, and so does everyone else in Fairbanks. We have a week, and possibly two more weeks, of -35 to -60 temperatures. It's December. It's dead. There is at best 3 hours of "sunlight". White, soggy, and cold. Not the ideal situation to take permanent pictures having to be shown around to all and everyone for the next 10 years.
So I decided it is best to hit the makeup stand. And it made me feel oh, so silly.
My mothers contribution to my education was as follows:
- full makeup (and I'm not talking about just powder and mascara)
- fashion, every store, every friend. Life is about Style
- classical ballet, and nothing else!!! Modern dance is a hindrance of femininity
- hairdressers are gods
- finding out the girls 'colors' (so far I'm both winter, summer, and spring. My mothers consultants all disagreed)
It's interesting how I de-emphasize the masculine features of my face. Fascinating really. But you have to be a navel-focused bastard to be fascinated by your previously routines of applying color to your face.
Women are lucky that we can apply, can adapt our face, too look like something that we don't really look like. And get away with it. Many of my male friends have been in need of makeup every now and then. Some rouch, some eyeliner. A hangover, after me making them drink with me all night, and having to go to work: Vola! Some cream to your face and no one suspects you haven't sleept all night. Morning glory and birds chipping and all that good stuff.
Norwegian women aren't really into makeup. That has been my defense in battles. I am Norwegian: therefore I'm allowed to dress masculine, behave in what you perceive as a masculine manner, and it doesn't say anything about me - just my culture. I can hide behind that. But I've sure had my schooling.
And today you could be finding me doing the minimal: applying the white liner: to make my eyes look all healthy and big, the concealer, the foundation, the rouch, the fucking eye shadow, the powder, the mascara, the lip gloss.
And I looked good. As good as it gets. Unlike my teachers I can make it look as if there's nothing there. An invisible layer of beauty.
But it feels phony. It's a mask over my face, my ears, my neck. Doesn't allow the skin to breath. Doesn't allow me to breath.
But how would I breath if I where male. I would for sure be an effeminate male. I would for sure have leftover behaviors of years and years of schooling. How to sit, how to place your hands, how to.... everything.
Would I be wearing makeup if I where a man?