So, every workday for the last eight years or so, I’ve worn make-up… Nothing too substantial, but make-up nonetheless.  Yesterday, after scrambling to make it to church on time (completely my own fault), I ran out of the house without make-up… none at all.  It wasn’t until I got to church that I realized this fact fully.  People would be looking at me, all my imperfections fully visible now that I hadn’t spent fifteen morning minutes hiding them behind a mask of (toxic?) chemicals. 

Funny thing is that no one noticed.  Even my best friend, who is very particular about these things and notices when my hair is done even slightly different (or one time, noticed that I changed my mascara from blue to darker blue – for reals), did not notice at all.  Boy, who I think is pretty honest about these things, told me that I don’t need make-up and doesn’t understand why I wear it.

Well, I don’t really believe him, but I do trust him mostly, so I came to work today without make-up… just to see if anyone noticed.  I’ve gotten fabulous comments on my hair (which I was bored with on Saturday, so I added an unnatural streak of blonde to it) and some remark about how I looked happier today. 

No questions about why I look an unflattering pale/red combination (thanks to my Irish heritage)… Although, admittedly, I was dizzy this morning and because I wasn’t wearing make-up, Jason clued in immediately that I was suffering from my low blood pressure and he made me hang my head for twenty seconds to regain color in my face and equilibrium in my brain.

The Update: It is absolutely not working out.  My tendency to turn red when I’m embarrassed is SO evident without make-up.  It’s been awful.  I blush and everyone knows.  I hate this.  I am hiding in my cubicle now, thankful that I have so much work.