"How NOT To Wear Your Makeup": If It's Not Your Face, It's Not Your Problem

Hello my sweet sweet angels!

Exactly one year ago (or a few days earlier/later, don't get your panties all in a knot), I posted this article about body shaming and the infamous cringe-worthy saying..."should you/she be wearing that?"

Although this isn't my most popular post, I believe it is one of my most important, because of the wide spread presence of this body negative mindset. So, to honour the importance of "live and let live", I am taking you on an exciting adventure through time and space, back to a scary era I like to call...

9th grade. 

Ah, yes, a beautiful age indeed. Slowly growing out of that god-awful awkward phase, yet still caring both too much and not enough about what others are saying and doing. It was the year my mental health became more than just a part of me; it became a problem.
And during the ins and outs of bad decisions and toxic friendships, I turned to the one thing that kept me going through a long hard day of drama and Algebra.
Rainbow eyes.

Don't know it? Google it. 

My adaption of a rainbow eye, I must say, was executed quite professionally. I woke up very early in the morning, blended 4 different super bright eyeshadows onto my eyelids, and marched my angst-filled neon butt to school. 

Just another Manic (Panic) Monday for 9th grade me

Funnily enough, I had raging anxiety at the time, and could barely breathe without thinking the world was staring at and judging me. But somehow, in this one particular instance, I didn't give a single fudge. 

Now, as some of you know, I write for a beauty magazine, Drop Of Pink, and with that comes a lot of research and time spent on other beauty and health blogs and webzines, so I know ALL ABOUT what makeup girls should wear to school or work, what makeup girls should avoid at all costs, blablabla. 

I even found a video, which I will not link because I ain't giving those girls more views, that mocks girls who wear their makeup differently, who make bold choices. 
...And let me tell you, that pisses me off.

Look, I know it's just beauty products, nothing too serious.
But it's more than that, it's about identity, and the freedom to express yourself. 

When I was 15, my life was a very typical miserable teenage experience. Few things got my out of bed in the morning. One of which was caking on drag makeup on a regular 'ole Tuesday morning. 
Maybe it wasn't that natural, maybe it didn't look that great, but by God it made me happy. 

So as I watch these videos, and read these articles, I can't help but think of present 15 year olds, who find little joy in anything these days, but who love dying their hair bright purple, or wearing 2940 pounds of eyeliner, or wearing tutus to school...
What if they watch those videos, or read those articles, and decide that they are being ridiculous, that because it's not the norm it's not okay. 

There is enough pressure to conform in the world, right down to the mascara you should wear, and not enough encouragement to be your own self. 
So here is my little piece of encouragement, to all my freaks and geeks:

If it's not their faces, or their hair, or their bodies, it's not their problem.
Do what makes you happy (that is legal, I'm not vouching for you in court babes) 

I hope you can all take something from this article, whether or not you're a drag baby like moi.
Have a lovely day babies

xoxo

Gabby

I Don't Give A Single Fudge

Hello my darling angels,

Let me tell you, boys and girls and non binaries, the Lord hath tested me as of late.

I am 18 years old, and as a result, I feel I am more comfortable with my identity than when I was 14.
I know who I am, what I want, what I like, and, as these past few weeks have proven, I am old enough not to give a single ounce of a fudge if the aforementioned don't comply to other people's tastes.

But no matter how old I get, it's hard sometimes to not let other people's opinions get inside your , and it's not everyday I feel like a ball busting finger snapping diva.

Example Number 1: My High Tops

About 2 months ago, I had a wonderful Etsy shop by the name of KaylaStojek make me a pair of custom designed, glitter monster, psychedelic, Jimmy Hendrix Experience-looking high tops.
When I got them in the mail, I. Was. Stoked.

Unfortunately, many a'folk did not share my fond sentiments towards my shoes.
Some told me they looked great,
Some kept quiet if they didn't particularly adore them (hello, manners!)
but some...well, let's just say some were less quiet.

I literally had people insulting my shoes as I walked past them in the hall. Snickering, pointing, and telling me to my face that I had one tacky pair of shoes.

To be fair, I go to school in a living, breathing J. Crew catalogue, so I expected a bit of attention, but I thought that my fellow classmates had reached a point in their lives where differing tastes and styles were celebrated and accepted.

At first, I must say, I was heartbroken.
*Cue High School Musical's "Stick To The Status Quo"
"I should have bought something more conservative, that would blend in with the crowd."
Why couldn't I just like what everyone else likes?!

But when I wore my shoes alone in my house, I felt happy.
These high tops made me happy.
I felt like myself, like a piece of my identity was being reflected out into the universe.

So why should I let beautiful inner feeling of pride in who I am wither away with the voices of strangers? 
----

Example 2: Industrial

Another example is my industrial.
Yes, I got an industrial piercing (pictured left, with filter because it is still very bruised).
I have wanted this damn hanger through my ear for yeaaaaars.
But I never got it.

It wasn't the pain, or the money, or my school's dress code that stood in my way.
It was me.

I thought people would call me a poseur, an amateur, a fake.
I thought it wasn't "my style", but that's a lie. Your style is what you like, plain and simple.
I was afraid if wasn't the style that other people perceive me to have, and that bubble of conformity and security was difficult to burst.

But here's the thing. I did not have a needle pumped through my cartilage for them.
I got it for me.

I did not watch my friend (shoutout to my gurl Lubear) almost pass out from watching me get pierced so that I could pretend to be someone I'm not, no.
I got it for me.

And I freaking love it.
Oh I'm going to get some comments, no doubt, I already have.

But everyday, as I peel away the layer of skin that doesn't belong to me, that belongs to others and what they think of me, I grow stronger.
I look into the eyes of the judgement's beholder, and I smile.
Because I could not give less of a fudge.

----------------------------
Some may say this conversation is superficial.
But to me, it's not about the shoes, or the piercing, or the jeans, or the headband, or the haircut.
It's about being happy.

Because you know you shouldn't care what others think about you.
But God, the people who say that don't what it's like to walk through the cut throat hallways of school.
Sometimes it's just easier to blend in.

But the easier route doesn't make you happy.
It would be easier to not study hard for that test, but you want that 4.0 GPA
It would be easier to lay back and watch TV, but you still train for that marathon.
It would be easier to twiddle your thumbs all day, but you pursue your passions anyway.

So yeah, it would be easier to blend in. To let the shining star of individuality inside you fade to black. 
But don't you want to be happy?
To be proud of who you are, to reflect your inner being into the universe and watch it inspire others?

"Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference". -Robert Frost

Have a lovely day
xoxo

Gabby