It began when I was driving home from teaching 3rd graders after a long day. I was about 38 years old. As a child, I must have had deep thoughts, with my nose always in a book, because I had resting “frownie” face. This cultivated deep furrows between my eyebrows, but they usually sprang back to a smooth forehead by bedtime.
Not that day, though.
No, on that day – after a grueling, sweaty shift at the whiteboard – I glanced at myself in my rearview mirror as I drove home. There they were: the dreaded frown lines, stubbornly etched like the gully erosion I had taught about that day. And those ridges weren’t going anywhere.
On that day, I impulsively cut my bangs. What a cheap form of cosmetic surgery that was! (I know, I write about my bangs a lot.) They covered those pesky lines, but it was a temporary fix. My forehead’s smooth days were over, and I knew it was time to explore the bewildering world of beauty products beyond my trusty SPF 50 sunscreen.
Teaching in a school with no air conditioning meant any makeup I wore typically melted off by lunch. In my 30s though, my skin had this lovely, dewy glow that shone through even after my face had surrendered to the heat.
But after the Day of the Never-Ending Frown Lines, I realized maybe it was time for a more serious skincare regimen. Eventually, my school got air conditioning, but by then I was losing the battle of melted face because of hot flashes and more dreaded wrinkles that allowed the makeup to gather in the creases like a batik artwork.
Armed with my first powerful eye cream, I returned to school feeling rejuvenated, only to have a third grader ask, “Do you have pink eye?” Ah, the honest brutality of children. My new miracle cream had given me a rash and red, watery eyes.
Once that disaster cleared up, I tried eyeshadow to perk up my face. A new and rather cheap palette of eyeshadows from Walgreens in shades of pink and purple seemed promising. Feeling fabulous, I strutted into class, when a concerned little face peered up at me and asked, “Did somebody punch you? Your eyes look bruised!”
Determined not to be defeated, I moved on to a more fantastic mascara. Aiming for fresh and awake, I opted for some brand that cost more than my day’s salary that offered false eyelash length, but alas it was not waterproof or even water resistant.
By the end of the day, it clumped into the corners of my eyes, leading to comments like, “Why do you have black eye boogers?” from the same brutally honest little ones. I found a mascara with a name like CoverWoman LashBlast SuperDuper Outrageous Waterproof Mascara to take care of those end of work dark circles and black eye boogers. It takes a jackhammer to get it off, but I’m worth it.
Undeterred, I decided my eyebrows needed attention. After turning 50, they’d started to thin from over-plucking – or were they just fading? Who knows? To this day I wonder if my eyebrow hair has just been relocating to my upper lip and chin.
I tried something called eyebrow mascara, but by noon, my brows looked like tiny caterpillar frass stuck to my face. “Your eyebrows look really strange,” my observant students noted.
My mother, ever the supportive soul, bought me something called Frown Eze – stickers for my frown lines that smelled like 1960s elementary school paste. I couldn’t sleep with those things stuck to my face, and each morning I awoke with a sticky, red residue instead of a smooth forehead.
Next, I tried instant firming lotion – the kind that tightens wrinkles right before your eyes in those YouTube videos. But apparently, I used too much, and it became white, flaky crumbles under my eyes. “You have dried toothpaste under your eyes,” came the uninvited critique from a Little in my classroom.
Of course, I made a sarcastic make-up tutorial to help us all spend less money. I mentioned it in a previous article. I want to thank those of you who journeyed to my podcast channel to view it. The video went from 7 views to nearly 400 – older women hold the power! Of course, my hints to use Crayola Markers on the face will lead to many “unsubscribes.”
Finally, I discovered an expensive self-tanner. Not the orange-hued QT of my grandma’s era, but a product that promised a natural glow. It worked, mostly. My third graders couldn’t find anything wrong with it, unless I put it on in a hurry and had a weird, dark streak that wouldn’t fade for 2 days.
And so, I’ve settled on this routine: a layer of expensive self-tanner, dry, sunscreen, dry, Bare Minerals to “paint by number” on my uneven skin, jackhammer mascara, and the occasional Crest White Strip for a dazzling smile.
I no longer teach, so if people think I look weird now, at least they’re polite enough not to say it out loud.
In the end, I realized that some days are just a total waste of makeup. I yo-yo between “growing old naturally,” and “fighting age with anything in my arsenal.” But hey, at least I’ve learned a thing or two about beauty products and the unfiltered honesty of children.
I avoid going into stores like Ulta or Sephora without a support animal (or my sister) because I always leave with something bizarre and expensive. And if you’re ever in need of a good laugh, just remember: there’s no problem a pair of scissors and a sense of humor can’t solve.
Did you ever have a day that was a total waste of makeup? Let’s not turn this conversation into a “crab fest,” so let’s keep it lighthearted. For example, did your hair color ever turn out a shocking shade you were not expecting? Did someone in your life ever comment on your makeup or fashion choices only to make you question all that money you spent on something new? Do you think we spend too much time and money trying to hang on to our youth?
Tags Humor
Love the bangs story! In high school, I noticed some innocuous tufts around my hairline…in my infinite wisdom regarding beauty hacks, I cut them all. Soon after, a huge clump sprouted near my part…with a bit of Dippity-Do I might have been able to pass as a unicorn!
Another time, a friend suggested I go blonde. I bought a bottle of Sun-In. Not satisfied with a few sprays, I dumped the entire bottle on my hair. I ended up looking like Carrot Top!
After that, I’ve only let professionals near my hair!
Love your writing!!!
Thanks Felicia!
I found a life-long relationship with my stylist, Kim. We’ve been together almost 25 years. :) Sue
Oh my, did I laugh!
I feel you!! Thank you for the feeling of makeup sisterhood!
Thanks Shelley!
We should come up with a name for our new SIsterhood group!
-Sue
I haven’t given up on makeup yet. I’m 69. I just found something I like – it took me months of searching. It is a tinted sunscreen by Neutogena, and it doesn’t cover anything but it kind of blurs imperfections. It is great for daytime. A little concealer is ok if I want to give extra coverage. I enjoyed your article very much. I love your humour.
Thank you Carol Anne!
I will, of course go out and buy this product. I’m not going to give up on makeup…just hanging out with honest 9-year-olds. :)
-Sue
I can relate to everything you wrote. I worked with students with disabilities at an high school – everyday a student would make a different comment about my wrinkles, makeup etc.
Cheryl,
I’m sure, like me, you loved those kiddos. But still…I’d have to leave my ego in the school parking lot. :)
-Sue
QUITE a while ago…far back in the last century…I had a perm done on my long,very fine, blond hair. Yes, this was 1980-something.I tried to convince the stylist my hair took curl well, and that she didn’t need to use those tiny rods….
When I walked into my then-boyfriend’s (now husband of many decades) house, his roommate took one look at me and barked, in tiny dog fashion: apparently I was the perfect picture of a poodle! (Unfortunately, the few photos that exist of me…I’ve always been a photographer/chronicler…prove the correctness of his assessment!)
Fast forward to today…after my youngest went off to college, I adopted my dog, Tessie…a large, very light blond Goldendoodle. And yes, friends said: So…you got a dog that looks like you….
The plus side: I can blame any long, wavy blond hairs on the furniture on the dog.
Or I could. If I cared. Which I don’t!
I got my one and only perm when I was about 22. My then-husband called me FiFi!
Jennifer, I have such a similar story! I had lots of straight, fine, blonde hair in the 80’s. For some reason the stylist broke out the “tiny, grey rods”-the smallest ones, for my perm. When it was over, my scalp was burned and about a third of my hair was gone. As it grew in, I could feel my fuzzy head. I learned to embrace my straight hair. I’ll bet your dog is adorable!
-Sue