I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I was a tomboy with two younger brothers.  My parents got divorced when I was around twelve-ish.  My dad had custody and my elderly old fashioned German grandmother lived with us to cook, clean, and make sure we didn't turn our house into the neighborhood party palace.  In the old country nice girls didn't wear makeup and they didn't date until they were 18.  My cliquish girlfriends tried to snub one of our group which made me walk away from them.  So I haven't had much experience or education in the ways of women.  Not that I've missed it, I'm just one of the guys with big balls proudly displayed on my upper body where they can be seen. 

Hanging with the guys is my comfort zone.  I am a low maintenance woman.  A real cheap date.  A whole half an hour from bed to work commute, and that includes the shower.  My closet and drawers are filled with cotton.  Denim is my fashion domain.  Happy with a burger and beer.  Cheaply entertained with raunchy jokes and campfires. 

Honey and I had two Christmas parties and two weddings to attend in the last couple of weeks.  This was going to require not only fancy dress but makeup.  That's right boys!  We are going to delve into the world of feminine fashion and beauty.  Stop crying you sissies, and don't even try to sneak out of the blog post.  YOU don't have to do it, the least you can do is see what I had to go through.

Honey and the X will tell you I was blessed with a nicely proportioned female body, so I don't have much trouble fitting into female clothing.  My problem is picking out something suitable for the occasion.  I still have to work on the "feeling comfortable" in dresses and heels.  Then there is also the acting appropriately in dresses and heels.   There is a lot of work to be done there.  Burping, armpit farting, and sitting with your legs uncrossed are strictly frowned upon.  Don't even think about snorting when you laugh.

I started on the journey by collecting opinions from co-workers and friends.  I had a secret list in my fanny pack (the first rule is to use the proper term, purse) hidden in my locker at work.  It had questions I could ask "real" women, though I questioned seeing my female co-workers as real women given their working in a home improvement warehouse along side me.  Is a sparkley sweater dressy enough to pair with a black skirt and heals for an evening wedding?  "Sure," they told me.  Then I flashed back to the bridal shower from this past summer.  I showed up in a nice dress.  Most everyone else wore jeans and even a few drug out their best sweats.  We even went to a wedding this past summer where a few people arrived in shorts and t-shirts.  Maybe these weren't really the people to ask.  Maybe I was worried over a fashion non-issue. 

Given that I was overdressed at most of these occasions, I decided not to worry about what I would wear.  I would focus instead on the make-up aspect of dressing up.  I was a painter for ten years and I watched Monster Make-Up on the FX channel.  How hard could this be?  Start simple.  Nails.  I did that before, when I was 7, a mere 40 years ago. 

Honey and I headed to Walmart.  Why invest millions on something I may never use again?  He dropped me in the nail aisle while he went to look at electronics.  One whole aisle devoted to nails.  There were kits for French Manicures, false nails to be glued on your real nails, tiny decorations to stick on your nails, cuticle conditioners, cuticle removers.  What the hell is a cuticle?  Clippers, files, smoothers, removers, clear coats, colors, my head was spinning.  I was starting to panic.  Just then Honey cruised by.  He abandoned the cart and ran over to ask, "what's wrong?"  I was hyperventilating but managed to say, "I'm in over my head.  I don't know what I'm doing."  He calmed me down and said he didn't think he could be much help but prodded me into going through what the steps were to paint a wall, er, I mean nail.  OH, Oh, I know this.  Clean, repair, prime, paint.  You can't go wrong if you stick to the basics.  An hour later we were at the checkout with a clipper, a file, some polish remover, and some little bottles of pretty colors. 

I had a couple of weeks till show time so I could practice and then present my efforts to the girls at work.  After just a couple of days, all us girls were meeting in the break room to show off our nails.  We were discussing colors like it was the most important topic in the world.  We also offered each other tips on how to make our nails look nicer longer.  I discovered that you want to apply your polish AFTER your shower, or AFTER you do dishes so your nails won't look like this:

The face make-up was going to be a bit harder.  I would have to consult an expert.  The teenager at the Walmart makeup counter wasn't going to do.  She was into Gothic.  Everything was black.  I settled on the woman at the upscale department store makeup counter.  She looked nice, not cheap or overdone like some street walker.  That isn't the "look" I'm going for.

Miss fashionable didn't even look down her nose at me when I asked for her help.  What a relief!  I thought at my age they would ask for my membership card to the big girls club, maybe fine me, or even banish me for not knowing the rules.  She was patient.  She explained that less was more attractive.  I rushed her through the proper cleansing and moisturizing products.  Ever since that horrible rash from a "proper" facial cleanser and sunscreen lotion in my teen years, I've been hesitant to try new products on my face.  Irish Spring Deodorant Soap seemed to work well on my face and body.  Lubriderm Hand Cream always worked on dry areas.  I'm sure these weren't on Miss fashionable's list of beauty essentials.

We headed straight for the foundation.  "This would even out my skin tones and cover minor imperfections," she explained.  In my experience it was the "repair" part before painting, or in Monster Makeup from the FX channel it was "the pallor of death."  We picked out a suitable color and she let me sit at the mirror and apply it. 

She then handed me a compact with skin colored powder to apply over the foundation explaining that the matte powder would help soften the shiny areas and add more color to my skin.  In painting this would be the "priming" part, for Monster Makeup it would be layering of colors.  It is also a common painting technique to use flat paint to hide imperfections, soften a rooms look, and to absorb sounds.  So far everything was making perfect sense.

It was now time to apply more color.  Blush is applied to the high points on your face, the "apples of your cheeks" (the cheeks on your face in case you are getting confused), the bridge of your nose, the roundness of your chin.  Careful, you just want the essence of color.  You don't want to be mistaken as Bozo the Clown's relation.

This next part is the hard part.  Eye shadow.  Dark color in the crease, medium color on the lid, light color on the brow bone.  Then lengthen and thicken the eyelashes with mascara.  Mascara and I are old friends.  It is the only makeup I have worn consistently since I was a teen, and don't think I didn't pay for that show of independence with the disapproving comments and looks from my family. 

Oh hell.  I was hoping we could forget the lipstick.  If anything makes me feel like a streetwalker, it's the lipstick.  We picked out a shade that complimented the other colors on my face that wasn't too different from the colors of my real lips.  Now I was going to have to show some self control and stop lip biting.  Nothing brings out the imperfections of chapped and shredded lips like some shiny lipstick.  I would embark on a week long journey to repair the damage with my trusty tube of chapstick.

There, that wasn't so hard.  I thanked Miss Fashionable as I handed her my hard earned $50.00.  Is it any wonder I don't follow a regular feminine beauty regiment.  First off it's time consuming.  It took me over an hour to put all this glop, (oops, proper terms) makeup on.  Then I had to spend two days worth of wages for a very small "color palate."  Am I allowed to talk or smile or will my face crack?

Well it must have worked.  Everyone said how nice I looked.  Not one person asked, "What do I get for 20 bucks?"  Now I call that success.  Will I wear this stuff every day?  No way, snicker, snort, oops, sorry.  That would cut into my morning commute. I think I can manage it for special occasions once or twice a year though. 

Before (the empty canvas):

Scary. . . . . .yet another reason I want to be cremated.  Then . . . .cue the horn introduction . . .after:

What a transformation!  A little too heavy on the blush and shaving the facial hair should be considered.  Picture courtesy of Download-Free-Pictures.com.   Here's the real deal:

 Downright human.  Almost ladylike. 

tags: makeup  fashion  humor  feminine  funny  shopping  life  female  monster  beauty  

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