On Friday, I swept into work without makeup . . .
. . . and in my glasses.
A decade ago, friends, this would have been unfathomable. Atrocious. Awful. Embarrassing. To be blunt, if I couldn’t wear concealer and Chapstick at a bare minimum, I might have called in sick. Wish I were joking.
But let’s back up.
Though far from a beauty maven, I’ve worn some combination of cosmetics daily since I was the awkward 10-year-old try to mask her first acne break-out. I lived in fear that my fellow fifth-graders would notice the spots, so Mom took pity on me and bought me my first bottle of liquid concealer. I tried dismissing the marks as “mosquito bites” on my chin and cheeks, but . . . eh, you know no one bought that nonsense.
Indoctrinated into the world of makeup, I became reliant on its life-changing…
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Viv Drewa - The Owl Lady 