made up

Well I did it. I went a whole week without make up. I went to work every weekday, and out six evenings out of seven. And yet, I don't feel particularly proud of the achievement.

As expected, I was repeatedly told by acquaintances and colleagues that I looked tired, or looked like shit. I was even called an ugly butch in the street, but then that happened a couple of weeks ago too, when I was wearing make up, and both blokes were clearly nutters, so it doesn't count. My friends, conversely, either didn't notice or thought it suited me.

Nobody else's response bothered me as much as my own. I hated every single second of it. I felt exposed and shy, as though my social skills had regressed about ten years. And I felt ugly. I know that's a terrible thing to say,   but I'm trying to be honest. If I spoke to my friends the way I spoke to myself in the mirror last week, I wouldn't have any left. So why on earth does my brain think it's acceptable to speak to myself that way? Clearly that needs to be addressed at some point, but not right now. For now I'm back behind my mask, where I'm safe from my own cruelty, and I think I'll stay here until things settle down a little.