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happier even, like the rosy cheeks of a child. I choose a shade of eyeshadow that complements the tones of my skin, eyes, and hair, depending on the event I’m attending or the day I’m experiencing, to go on my eyelids and underneath my waterline. I comb the oily black mascara through my lashes until they reach my eyebrows, the longer and bolder the better, hoping to emphasize my eyes as much as possible. I lay my eyebrows flat and shape them until they look exactly alike, where every strand of hair is visible and perfectly in line with the rest of the strands. I line my lips, preferably with a shade that matches my blush and the eyeshadow I applied to my lid, carefully following the edges of my mouth, blending it by tracing my finger along afterwards, applying a gloss and rubbing my lips together until it’s all coherent. Only after I set my work with setting spray and powder is my canvas complete.
While I can’t speak on my own skill level, I can emphasize the passion I feel for this process. I anticipate getting to go through the motions, following each step, almost exactly the same every single day. The attention to detail is therapeutic for me, making sure every little thing is as perfect as I can make it, that each product is placed in the correct place, every step being smoothly blended together to make a final masterpiece I’m proud of each and every time. Makeup is so much more to me than a daily
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