Why I Don’t Wear Makeup to the Gym
I'm trying to embrace 'No Makeup' in the South but confusing others
Grammy winner Alicia Keys didn’t wear makeup to the MTV Video Music Awards last month. The Twittersphere nearly imploded. World comes to an end. #Bam. The cause of the chaos? Cosmetics. Or lack thereof. #NoMakeup.
How dare a celebrity show up on the red carpet with a naked face, lacking the typical two hours of professional prep time? The result: insanely gorgeous. Keys looks beautiful – comfortable in her own skin. Yet people have the audacity to criticize and tell her she “needs” to cake on the war paint, almost as if it’s a requirement. Of what? Being a woman? I’m not sure which is more disturbing — this coming from the women or the men.
“Wait a minute,” she says, moving closer, inspecting my face with intensity. “Are you not wearing any makeup to the gym?”
So if someone like Keys, who’s also an actress, author and entrepreneur – all probably before lunch – is willing to ditch a $50 lipstick, what’s that mean for the cosmetic industry, which is dominated by U.S. sales. Which, by the way, are expected to hit $62 billion this year. Too bad we can’t just point to corporate greed as being the source of the #NoMakeup hype, but that’s not the case, at least not here in Texas.
The message seems to be beauty over brains, how it makes a lady. It confuses the hell out of me. After two decades of living in the Lone Star State, I still struggle to understand the importance of female appearance in the South.
NoMakeup to the Gym?!
Oblivion isn’t bliss in my case. I just feel like I’m missing my girl gene.
I recently was caught off guard when I had to face my own #NoMakeup questioning, at the gym of all places. Apparently this is a thing. At least in Texas. Putting on makeup just to sweat it off. Repeat.
“Your skin looks so great,” one of my favorite female trainers gushed.
Given my bumpy past with my complexion, I’m a total sucker for a skin compliment. I’ve walked around for much of my life with a face resembling a greasy slice of pepperoni pizza you’d get at the mall food court. Nearly three decades later, I still feel like the teen dubbed “grease face” from the excessive oil pooling in my acne dents.
No amount of makeup helped heal it or worked to cover it up. It just looked like I was trying to hide something – in plain sight.
While I still break out in acne, now it’s accompanied by gray hair. Aging it a bitch. It also hasn’t curbed acne like I was told it would. Instead it required two rounds of the aggressive drug Accutane to kick it into submission. The oil also hasn’t prevented the aging I was told it would prevent. Please see my wrinkles and Botox bills.
As someone still struggling to accept myself, my appearance – or lack thereof – has played a starring role. When it comes to cosmetics, I’m never sure whether makeup helps or hinders me – and women in general – from being accepted in the world as we really are. The same probably could be said for my obsession with weight loss and my anti-aging regimen.
