Glitter

short (hopefully inspiring) story

 

 

Glitter

        I used to wear a lot of makeup. Most of my teenage life, I worried about being and feeling beautiful. When I was a little girl, I wanted to look like a princess. After I turned twelve, I wanted to feel pretty. Just before I blew out my sixteen candles, I wished to be sexy. Today, I don’t want to be any of those things. I just want to be myself.

       I first started wearing makeup in the sixth grade. My typical made up face consisted of thick foundation, excessive purple eye shadow (with a touch of razzle-dazzle eye glitter), sparkling pink lip gloss, and badly done mascara. I thought the makeup would make me feel and look pretty. I don’t know about the beauty, but I know for certain I was not happy. I wore the thick foundation to cover my blemishes when I was only covering my insecurities. I wore purple eye shadow to boost my confidence but I think it only irritated my skin more than improved my appearance. I applied the glitter over the eye shadow, because I wanted to look like a fun girl; it only stung my eyes whilst I cried in the girl’s locker room after being bullied by a bunch of seventh grade girls. I had hoped the sparkling lip gloss would make my lips extra soft for my first kiss. By the way, it didn’t happen in the sixth grade. Last but not least, I wore mascara because I felt that my eyelashes were too short, although now I remember them being perfectly fine just the way they were.

       As I got older, I realized that make up was supposed to enhance beauty—not create it. Consequently, I began to feel like my face needed a miracle. I grew to be depressed and sad and lonely. I would make excuses when my friends invited me to parties. I became needy towards my parents and siblings. I blew people off for stupid reasons because I thought they wouldn’t want to see my putrid face. Although I still wore makeup during my “dark ages”, I didn’t feel beautiful. I just wanted to hide and make up helped me do that. I was like the fake smile on the highway billboard. I was like the miserable actress auditioning for a singing career. I was like the rich girl with the demon daddy. I was like the popular girl abused by her temperamental boyfriend. 

       I began comparing myself wretchedly to all these people in all different situations and one day I realized I wasn’t those things. I knew there were people who were like me but I didn’t have to be like them. Who wants to be miserable all the time when there’s no reason to be? I didn’t have to fake my smile. I’m not an angry actress. I was never abused in my life. I’m not rich but that’s just fine by me because when I finally washed the makeup off my face for good, I washed away my insecurities, my lack of confidence, my timid behavior, and anything else that was holding me back from experiencing life. 

       I didn’t want to be sexy anymore. If I felt beautiful, then I knew I was beautiful. For all who doubt it, I believe I can be happy with the way I am and the way I look, because I am beautiful and for God’s sake, I don’t need approval. Call me Superwoman.   

Reviews

[brittneymarie]

Aww what a touching story, this was a beautiful piece. I feel the emotion from every line in here and I liked at the very end you punched the reader with "I am superwoman" I think a lot of women will relate to this.

Great write

BrittneyMarie