Two Weeks Without Makeup

Move over Pamela Anderson...

Hi, I’m Amber Eve — author of smalltown romantic comedies, and my long-running blog, Forever Amber. If you’d like to know more about me, start here. If you’d like to hear more from me, meanwhile, hit the button below…

So, the blepharitis¹ didn’t get better.

Actually, it got worse.

So much worse, in fact, that I ended up having to get a prescription from the doctor; an eye cream which, according to Google, is normally used to treat THE LITERAL PLAGUE, and which came with the helpful warnings that:

a) It might cause “blood problems”. Awesome!

and

b) I should avoid cosmetics for ‘up to 6 weeks’.

Naturally, it was the second point that was of the most concern to me, because ‘blood problems’ are one thing, but, as anyone who knows me will confirm, I’m one of those women who wouldn’t be seen DEAD without makeup — mostly because, in my case, anyone who sees me without makeup assumes that I am, in fact, dead.

Me without my makeup

I’m actually not quite as bad as I used to be with this; since having Max, I’ve found that I’m frequently too tired to care what people think of me, so these days I have been known to do things like taking the bins out without makeup (and sometimes even in my PJs, which would’ve been unthinkable to Young Amber), and I no longer hide behind the sofa if the doorbell rings before I’ve had a chance to put my ‘face’ on.

For most of my younger life, though, it was a very different story, which I guess can probably be best summed up by all of those times in university when the fire alarm in my Halls of Residence would go off in the middle of the night, and I’d take the time to put on my mascara before heading outside. Like, I’d rock up in my scruffy old dressing gown, no worries, but you better believe I’d be wearing mascara.

I’m guessing quite a few of my fellow redheads with translucent eyelashes will understand this.

(In my defense, the fire alarm went off so often that no one took it seriously², but, if we’re being totally honest, I can’t guarantee I wouldn’t have done the same thing even if there had been a fire, so…)

It’s not about thinking I’m ‘ugly’. Well, I mean, it’s not just about thinking I’m ‘ugly’. I have spent most of my life feeling ugly, as it happens (this is why a lot of Cool Girl Summer revolves around the concept of being the ‘Ugly Best Friend’…), but, quite apart from that, I also have the distinction of being one of those redheads who’s so pale I genuinely look unwell without makeup: and I know this because almost every time I go out without it, people will make a huge fuss and ask me if I’m feeling OK, because I look ‘awful’. Which is always a nice little ego boost, isn’t it?

I’m honestly not joking about this: once in my twenties I was running late for work and didn’t have time to put my ‘face’ on, so I threw my makeup in my bag and went to work, only for my boss to immediately try to send me home, saying I “looked terrible” and was obviously too ill to be there. He was really quite insistent about it, too. I managed to convince him to let me just go and put some makeup on in the bathroom instead³, and, when I came out, the very first person I saw said, “Oh, what a difference! You should wear makeup all the time, you know!” True story. Really wish it wasn’t.

This is one of my favourite photos of me, mostly because you cant see my face in it

After that, I learned that it was better to be late for work — but look reassuringly ‘normal’ when I finally arrived — than it was to have to face the humiliation of having to keep explaining that I wasn’t ill, just ugly. And that’s why the instruction to avoid cosmetics for ‘up to 6 weeks’ seemed like kind of a big deal to me, really. Like, I am under medical instructions to be ugly, people: how is this to be borne? And why is this exactly the kind of thing that happens to me?

“Maybe I can channel Pamela Anderson, and tell people I’m not wearing makeup as part of some kind of devastating blow to the patriarchy?” I told myself, carefully applying the ointment, having first of all given Terry strict instructions to call an ambulance if I wasn’t back in a few minutes. (Seriously, the list of warnings and side effects on that stuff was scary…)

The thing about that, though, is that, much as I admire Pamela (She was great in The Last Showgirl), every time I hear someone describe her as “brave” for refusing to wear makeup, I kind of want to scream, because, the fact is, Pamela Anderson is beautiful — with or without makeup. Stunningly so. It’s not ‘brave’ for someone who’s naturally beautiful to not wear makeup: they’re still going to look amazing. Me, though? I’m going to look DEAD; and trust me, no one’s going to be writing essays and think pieces about how ‘brave’ I am for walking around like a corpse.

They’re just not.

But, of course, the doctor has instructed me to be ugly, and, considering the state of my eye when I woke up on Monday morning, not even I was able to argue with that.

“It’ll be fine,” I told myself, straightening my shoulders. “You work from home. It’s not like anyone ever really sees you, other than your immediate family —and they already know what you look like.”

Then I remembered the list of commitments we have over the next two weeks alone, which include…

• Max’s school’s Easter assembly, involving every parent and child we know.

• Terry’s entire family⁴ coming to our house for dinner.

• Day out with friends.

• My cousin’s wedding.

• Day out with other friends.

So, basically EVERY SINGLE PERSON I KNOW, with just a handful of exceptions, will see me looking my absolute worst. Every. Single. One. And, honestly, much as I want to be able to say that the thought of having to show my actual face to all these people doesn’t bother me in the slightest, I just … I mean, a WEDDING? Hosting a PARTY? Every single parent in the SCHOOL? Come on, universe, surely this is a bit much, even for you?

Shutterbug Holiday / A Life Wasted

The good news, of course, is that it’s (presumably) just eye makeup I have to avoid, and I’m assuming I can still wear foundation, lipstick etc, without any issues. Which would be good news indeed, if it wasn’t for the fact that…

a) It’s the eye makeup that makes the most difference: without it I look a lot like an albino mole, basically.

and

b) In addition to the blepharitis, I’ve also managed to develop something called angular cheilitis, which takes the form of cracked red skin at the corners of the mouth, and which, against my deathly pallor, is very, very noticeable, and makes me look like someone’s painted a downturned clown mouth on me. Awesome. Thankfully the doctor was ALSO able to give me a prescription for that, which I’m hoping will work before the wedding⁵, at least, but, in the meantime, lipstick makes it look even worse, so…

I’m in my ‘ugly’ era, folks. Well, I’m back in my ‘ugly’ era, I guess. Or ‘Ugly Era, Blepharitis’s Version™ if you like.

(BRB, just quickly copyrighting that…)

In slightly more positive news from this week however, we’ve now entered my very favourite time of year, and, for once, the weather has decided to play along, so we’ve had a whole week of Spring sunshine, which means most people in the village are now dressed as if we’re all on a fun Mediterranean cruise, and I’ve been able to switch my Big Coat for a trench: which I’ve sometimes even had to remove — imagine!

The lighter nights and warmer weather do make everything feel a bit brighter, though, and the sunshine makes it easier for me to get away with wearing sunglasses all the time to cover my eyes (Which I do anyway, but people are less likely to laugh at me when it’s actually sunny…), so that’s good, too.

Will my eyes de-puff in time for me to look vaguely normal for next Saturday’s wedding, though? And will my weird mouth condition make me look like a sad clown? There’s only one way to find out, and it’s by subscribing to this very newsletter, so you don’t miss the next episode of ‘Amber Gets Progressively Worse Looking and Whines a Lot About It’.

Until then,

Stealing a Second Chance / Swipe Right for Mr. Darcy / Twisted Wedding

1. It’s an annoying condition where one or both of your eyelids swell up, just in case you’re fortunate enough to have never encountered it. I get it every so often, and, in my case, it’s normally just my right eye which is affected. Lucky me!

2. Is there university accommodation anywhere in the country where the fire alarm DOESN’T go off at least once a week, I wonder?

3. I have no idea why I did this rather than just going home, like he told me to: I hated that job…

4. Minus the ones who live in Greece, although, the way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if they flew over for it

5. It’s not looking good so far, though, so if anyone else suffers from this and knows something that gets rid of it (Other than iron and Vit B supplements, which I’ve already tried with no success..), please share…