Last night I put myself in the delicate hands of a make-up artist for an audition of sorts and it represented one of the parts of the whole wedding planning process about which I was considerably nervous. Every day I head out into the world wearing very little in the way of facial adornment. It likely came from my mother who wears no make-up and who hews to the theory that we’re made the way we’re made and that ought to be good enough for everyone. When I was discussing meeting with the make-up artist, my mother seemed genuinely perplexed and said after a minute or two: “But you’re beautiful.”
So there it is: my mom thinks I’m beautiful.
Over the course of an hour, the artist brushed, smoothed, and glossed her way across the canvas. Periodically, I lifted a hand mirror to inspect her work, which was amazing. Features began emerging on my face that I didn’t even remember being there. And who knew? I actually have green eyes. (Technically, green and auburn, because I have two different colored eyes.) I looked, if I may say, incredible, for me. What I did not look like exactly, was me.
This was confirmed when I got home and my fiancé seemed a little unnerved that he suddenly had a different entity before him. A texting exchange with fellow bride M confirmed that her fiancé had the same reaction when she came home from her trial. We’d both tried explaining about how this was necessary so that our features didn’t get lost in the barrage of photos that will be taken that day. We both faced men who looked like they didn’t know what to do with their sudden and unexpected UPS My Little Glamazon delivery.
After considering my look throughout the evening—giving Narcissus a run for his money—I determined that I will have the make-up artist tone it down a smidge. I’d like to think that I’ve always tried avoiding being someone I’m not. And more than any other day in my life, on my wedding day, I’d like to know exactly who I am.