MAKEUP
FREE
I Went Makeup Free for a Full Work Week and my Transformation into a Heinous Beast is Now Complete
One week. One woman. No makeup.
By Lizzie Zilla April 16, 2018
I’ll be honest, when I decided to try out this “week without makeup” trend, I wasn’t expecting to get much out of it.
I figured I would do it for the work week and come out of it realizing how I much I let my insecurity get the best of me, and then go back to my usual makeup routine, finally recognizing the control “big beauty” has over me and the rest of the female population.
I started wearing makeup in high school. Twin crescent moons darkening the skin under my eyes appeared after so many late nights of studying, so I began dabbing on concealer to hide them and using mascara for good measure. Since then, I haven’t left the house without, at the absolute minimum, concealer under my eyes and mascara on my lashes.
On a typical workday, though, I like to go for that natural, no makeup, makeup look. I apply concealer under my eyes, foundation on the rest of my face, I use three different shades of eyeshadow to create a natural looking gradient that compliments my brow bone, then there’s contouring, not excessively, but just enough to accentuate my cheekbones and sharpen my jawline, then of course blush, mascara, a little eyeliner, and a neutral, subtle lipstick. The whole thing only takes me forty-five-ish minutes, which gives me plenty of time to deal with my hair and pick out an outfit for the day. What can I say? I’m a minimalist.
Even so, a work week without makeup is going to be tough. It’s Sunday night, I’ve washed my face, my skin is makeup-free, and I intend to keep it that way for the next five days, no matter what. Of course, the challenge is going to be trying not to think about what others might think. Will my co-workers recognize me without makeup? Will they assume I’m in the midst of a mental breakdown? Will they utter the well-intentioned but dreaded Are you tired?
Only one way to find out.
Monday, Day 1
I have already realized a benefit of No Makeup Week: I get to sleep in. Today, the time I would’ve spent blending contour and painstakingly trying to even out my eyeliner was spent comfortably in my bed. As I brushed my teeth, I tried not to pay too much attention to my reflection in the mirror, where dark circles and an uneven skin tone would surely be staring back at me. I spent extra time on my hair and wore my favorite work outfit to compensate for my bare face, determined to take on the day with some confidence.
At work, I was expecting at least an odd look or two from my coworkers. The short walk from the door to my desk never felt so long, but as I self-consciously crossed the room, my coworkers acted as they always do. In fact, no one made a comment about my appearance the whole day. Maybe this week won’t be as bad as I thought.
Tuesday, Day 2
I caved. Especially after starting strong yesterday, I’m not proud of it, but it was just a tiny bit of concealer on my chin… and a couple little spots on my neck.
Yes, I’m disappointed in myself, but I didn’t have a choice. Just hear me out. After a surprisingly uneventful Monday, I woke up this morning feeling pretty good about myself. I made my way to the bathroom, curious to see if the lack of makeup had any positive effects on my skin. Instead, I saw a very noticeable, very green spot on my chin. I assumed it had to be ink or something, so, confused, I scrubbed at it with warm water and a washcloth for a few minutes to no avail.
I ran my index finger over the discolored skin, which I can only describe as scaly. Not like psoriasis scaly, like lizard scaly. I noticed similar spots in a few places on my neck. Had they been there a second ago?
Naturally, I decided to Google the reaction before panicking. I looked for possible side effects from my facial wash and moisturizer, I looked to see if skin goes through a withdrawal process if you abruptly stop wearing makeup. Nothing.
I couldn’t be late to work, and I couldn’t go in looking like this, so I, understandably, covered the mystery blemishes with concealer and hurried out the door, now more self-conscious walking into work than I had been yesterday.
Later on, as I ordered lunch, I caught the cashier looking at my chin as I spoke. I went into the bathroom to check if the concealer had worn off. It hadn’t, but there were two problems: 1) while the concealer hid the alarming green color, it couldn’t hide the scaly texture, 2) the spot had grown. New green scales crept up my jawline and down my neck that I covered up with more concealer.
I spent the rest of the day frazzled, compulsively checking my face in my phone camera to look for any sign of a new cropping of scaly green skin.
Wednesday, Day 3
By morning, my face was covered with more green scales than human skin, but I was determined to leave my house with zero makeup on my face. If I’m only comfortable without makeup when I’m having a good skin day, then going makeup-free in the first place is pointless. No makeup, so instead, I decided my skin is nothing a little bit of (un-tinted) moisturizer can’t fix. I did opt for a turtleneck sweater, careful to make sure the color didn’t clash with the green, to hide the fact that the scales have now completely covered my neck and have begun to work their way down my arms.
I’m a firm believer in “fake it til you make it,” so I walked into the office with my head held high, with the self-assurance of a woman whose face isn’t inexplicably covered in green lizard scales. While my coworkers seemed perfectly capable of valuing me for my work when I was conforming to conventional beauty standards, today was different. Every single person I encountered stared, some did double takes.
Three different people asked me if I was okay. Karen, who works at the front desk, followed up by letting me know that I looked “a little green.” Very funny, Karen. It really boosts my self-esteem to know that my natural makeup-less face looks like I’m recovering from the flu.
It’s hard not to take it personally. I show up on time, I work hard, I take pride in doing my job well. I’m a good employee, but I have one bad skin day and suddenly the way I’m treated at work comes down to my superficial appearance? I used to believe that this company was better than this.
Thursday, Day 4
I’m finally starting to notice a difference in myself since I stopped wearing makeup. I’m less self-conscious, I care less what people think, I have so much more energy now that I have an extra forty minutes to sleep in every day. I feel like a new person. Looking in the mirror this morning, I don’t even recognize myself – in a good way. Confidence really does make all the difference. (It also helps that I am now entirely covered in green scales, fangs have replaced my canines, and I may or may not be growing a tail. Only time will tell).
With my newfound self-acceptance, I decided I wasn’t going to put up with all the negativity at work. If my coworkers can’t accept me as I am now, then they never respected me in the first place. If Greg from accounting can get away with occasionally skipping his morning shave without a second thought, then I should be able to walk into my office makeup free without consequence.
The stares continued today although no one said a word to me. Yesterday, everyone seemed more concerned and confused than anything. Today, though, it’s almost like they’re afraid of me. In the break room, everyone actively avoided eye contact. People opted to drink their coffee standing by the door, even though there were plenty of empty seats at my table. I guess they just find the idea of an empowered woman intimidating. It’s really disheartening to see.
Friday, Day 5
I can now confirm that I have grown a tail. I can also confirm that I’m definitely more of a lizard-person hybrid than a human woman at this point. It’s taking some getting used to. Earlier today, I meant to roll my eyes at a dumb joke on my Facebook feed and instead just straight up hissed, reflexively sticking out my now forked reptilian tongue, alarming everyone in the Starbucks line.
After yesterday, I decided to schedule a meeting with Susan from HR for first thing in the morning. I shouldn’t have to feel excluded and isolated at my own office just because I don’t conform to workplace norms. I arrived at her office, one floor below mine, and knocked lightly. Upon opening her office door and seeing me standing there, Susan screamed and slammed the door in my face before I could get a single word in. Through the window I could see her frantically attempting to barricade the door with her desk and file cabinets, all the while yelling at me to get out of here and leave her alone.
I really thought Susan would understand. Instead of helping me break down barriers like I’d hoped she would, she instead built up a literal one. What happened to women supporting other women?
Frustrated, I gave up and tried to take the elevator to my floor, but since I’ve grown about six feet taller in the last few days, getting into the elevator was such a struggle, I opted to take the stairs. When I reached my floor, everyone’s heads turned as I walked in. The office erupted into chaos. They all jumped out of their seats, horrified. At the front desk, Karen screamed, which startled me into letting out a guttural shriek so loud it shook the foundation of the building. Items fell from desks, a file cabinet toppled over, paperwork spilled out onto the floor. Everyone was screaming and shouting. Some were face down on the floor covering their heads with their hands, others were hiding under their desks. One person sprinted past me and ran out the door. I turned to watch him go, my tail swinging behind me, accidentally knocking over everything in its path, which included one of my coworkers.
I tried to apologize and help him up, but as I reach down to offer him my clawed hand, he cringed away, shouting “don’t touch me! Get away!”
That was the last straw for me. If my coworkers couldn’t treat me with the respect I deserve, then I couldn’t be there to put up with it any longer. I walked out into the lobby of my building, where the glass ceiling of the atrium was cracked from the shaking. Outside, sirens wailed, local news vans surrounded the front doors. Maybe there was a car accident or something.
As I left through the front doors, I tried to push past the mass of reporters, accidentally knocking a van on its side as I went. I tried to apologize but it didn’t seem like any of them could hear me over the commotion. I figured I was just in their way anyway, so I walked to my car and drove home.
I had a lot of doubts coming into this week. Although I feel like it ended on a bit of a low note what with the way my coworkers treated me and being followed home by a hoard of reporters and police, I would say, overall, this has been a positive and genuinely life-changing experience. I’ve really accepted myself for the person I’ve become and that person is actually a twelve-foot tall lizard monster and proud of it.
It’s been about three days since my week without makeup was supposed to end, but I’m loving this new way of life. I don’t have to waste time getting ready in the morning. I don’t even have to worry about brushing my teeth. I’m saving so much time and money since my saliva turned venomous and dissolved my toothbrush when I tried to use it.
I even made the news. Anytime a woman demands respect she’s “shrill” or “bitchy” or “a disgusting beast striking fear into the hearts of city residents.” But if a man does it he’s “a leader.”
I’ll admit the situation at work is still a little dicey, and I’ve had to suppress some tendencies to go on a Godzilla-like rampage a few times, but it’s all a work in progress. I couldn’t be happier with the empowered, self-assured person lizard monster I’ve become.