I remember

As an assignment I was told to start a piece with "I remember" and choose my most vivid moment as a child to write about.

            I remember wanting to itch my face throughout the entire performance. I was never allowed to wear makeup on my own, being just six, but minutes before they pushed me on stage for my first performance a middle-aged woman spread the cream makeup over my cheeks.            

            The small foam applicator met my cheek with force. If it were made with anything harder, I would’ve had skin scraped off. The makeup was slapped and smoothed onto my face, not unlike my father plastering our basement walls.

All I could smell was makeup, mostly because this lady had accidentally gotten some up my nose.  Layer after layer of makeup went on. My face kept getting heavier and even though I didn’t know what my pores were at the time, I could feel them being clogged and filled in as if the audience would see these miniscule holes in my face if more makeup were not applied.

I sat still in the wooden stool up against the concrete wall. I was afraid to move, especially since this lady had a sharp pencil near my eye. “Look up”, “don’t blink”; she kept barking commands at me, as if I couldn’t hear her hovering two inches over my face. I could smell her old lady perfume, musk, and applied very liberally. I held my breath while she started to powder my face.

The bristles of the brush whacked at my face enveloping me in a cloud of translucent powder. I flinched with every hit and clenched my eyelids to keep the particles from invading my newly done up eyes.

“Ok, sweetie, you’re all done. Don’t touch your face until you’re done”, she was smiling at me when I slowly unfolded my eyes. “You look so pretty.” I believed her. I was rushed onto stage to stand in my three-person formation of a windmill.

The bright lights sought us out in our scene and the heat from the spot began to bake us. I could feel my face sliding off my head, and it took my very small amounts of restraint to not try to hold it in place. After my scenes were done, I ran back stage to check my melting complexion to find that not only was it still there, but it was still in perfect condition. 

Reviews

[Samuel Dickens]

No wonder you still remember that awful experience. Cruel and unusual punishment, I'd call it. You were a trooper, though, and endured the ordeal. A good childhood story, very well told, Jen.