Thursday
Today's Ensemble
Clothes: The white jeans and the black V-neck pullover.Accessories: Nothing, really. I was going to try to pull everything together but I woke up late and bleary eyed and it wasn't worth it. Besides, black and white compliment each other enough, right?
Shoes: My grandma calls them my "funky" pair. They're the ones with the star shaped charms, zippers, and sparkly gray stripes. I really like them; they're casual but still cute.
Hair: Loose, hair brushing my shoulders, tickling my cheeks, and getting in front of my eyes. But I can't say I overly mind. I'm used to lazy hairstyles and I so didn't have time to think up a better hairstyle.
Mascara
Don't just scroll through this thinking this is going to be a ramble about mascara brands and colors and styles and shizz. It's not. I promise.
When you put on mascara, you coat each lash with black (or sometimes other colors) goop so that you can make them prettier. Like they weren't pretty enough before and you wanted them to be better so you cover them up, hide them, basically destroy how they looked before so that you can get spiky eyelashes and, sometimes unfortunately, raccoon eyes. Mascara is all about making things better. But not just making them more obvious- like lipgloss/lipstick does. Covering them up until they're unrecognizable. Spreading the goo of uniformity over each lash. You end up with beautiful eyelashes. But they're also fake.
In Spanish, the word "mascara" means "mask". A mask- something you wear so people won't know you, won't see the real you. You wear a mask so people can't hurt you, be it an actual mask or just a persona you project.
Wearing plain clothing was like a mask for me. It hide me. I'm obviously a very eccentric girl. (Like, nah, really?) but you wouldn't know that if you just looked at my cargo pants and tee-shirts. I could blend in- at least until I opened my mouth. And I relished the sense of safety blending in grants. But if you rely on a mask, what will you do if/when it crumbles? Then you don't know how to handle the world.
I think I got a bit deep for this post; I'm going to change to a lighter subject.
Choices: The Road Less Traveled By
I woke up this morning, put on today's lovely ensemble, and then stood in front of the huge mirror that takes up one wall of my computer room. I looked okay- not all out, no makeup, no accessories that I don't usually wear. I went back upstairs, just to get my shoes. But then I pulled out a top and a pair of pants, shook out the folds, and went back downstairs. I held them in front of myself, thinking of all the choices I could have if I dropped out of the 621. Skinny jeans or a skirt or cargo pants or dress pants or sweat pants; tee-shirts or nice tops or camis and see-through over shirts. So many choices. But I think I made the right choice: to stick with the 621 and to fold the clothing back up- at least for another week and a half.
Feeling Unattractive
First of all, I have this problem often. I have a crap self image and I've been working on it but I do. But now that I've been spending more time with my clothing in the morning, I can't help feeling a little more stressed about it. Like I have the potential to be very more or less attractive. And hopefully being the former. Also, though, it's hard to feel attractive when dentists shoot you with four times the normal dosage of Novocaine and then rub a funky numbing agent all over your mouth. Because now I'm talking like a drunk caveman-err, drunk cavewoman-and they put so much of the stuff in me, that I'm falling asleep and stumbling around. I can't even walk up the stairs without stumbling! They told me to get sugar and pain pills in my bloodstream ASAP- it's great.
OK- I know that this one is short (by my standards) but I'm exhausted and have other homework. I think I covered everything I needed to and tied my rambles somewhat to the topic at hand.
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| Lash blast mascara, sold on Amazon |
Do you really need a mask?
S. Dorsey, 6th period
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