A Road Less Travelled

 I wrote this yesterday, but couldn’t post it because of technical difficulties. So here it is now–

 I’ve discovered a few things recently. First, a website called Gothic Eyes are Moping introduced me to a new use for eyeliner: drawing designs on one’s face. For a girl who always backed away slowly when approached by a frighteningly cheerful person offering to airbrush rainbows or teddy bears on her cheek, I find these decorative swirlies oddly appealing.

Second, when I wear these designs out in public, people ask if they’re tattooed on. My reaction the first time this happened was along the lines of, “Do they think I look like the kind of person who would tattoo this… Oh. Yeah. I guess I do.” Weird…

Third, there is no way to blend into the background when I have blue or black swirls drawn halfway across my face. This is probably fairly obvious to everyone else, but it was a slightly shocking thought to me today. I forgot to feed the parking meter before I went into the library, and so I had to slip out halfway through my visit to tend to that. At least, I intended to slip out. That is my general habit—just slip through and maybe no one will notice that I just left and came back again. And then I realized that I was wearing obvious makeup and everyone probably saw me go past both times. Huh.

There’s this strange disconnect between my makeup and the rest of the world. I don’t wear it to attract attention to myself. I drew blue swirlies on my face this morning because I thought it would be fun. I didn’t actually intend to go out into the world and have anyone see them. In fact, I tend to forget that I’m wearing odd makeup when I’m interacting with people unless they mention it. Then my mental image of myself clicks over with a jolt into what they’re actually seeing.

I think it boils down to this: I’m not used to looking as freaky odd on the outside as I am on the inside. (Unless you count nice, sweet, conservative girl as freaky odd.) I’m used to being able to pretend to be quiet and polite for as long as I want to. I am well accustomed to being the little girl who impresses her elders and is overlooked by her peers. Now suddenly (well, not really so suddenly) the things I wear ‘just because they’re pretty’ are turning that on its head as soon as I step out my door.

I’m not sure I have any interesting conclusions to draw from any of this. I mean, I already knew I was freaky odd. I just keep forgetting that other people can tell that more easily than they used to…