Board Thread:Writer's Workshop/@comment-24996913-20140920235406

I am a makeup artist part time and a flight attendant, so my experience with many women has led me to think up this here pasta. I hope you all enjoy.

I'm not a fan of altering my appearance, but it's what I have to do to blend in with society. Most males claim they dislike the charade most women allude to. They claim they want a natural beauty, but drool over the over-processed and over-done celebrities that aren't any different from the girls walking around within their own town. Because of this standard, because we are told we must resemble the unrealistic beauty of the women of Hollywood, girls lather on the makeup, blurring out their imperfections daily with various makeup brushes.

I'm no different than those girls.

I love makeup, I really do, but it's a hassle. My boyfriend has to wait in the living room for hours as I get ready for a simple movie date, attempting to perfect some imaginary caliber of aesthetic. Like many women, I refuse to leave the bathroom until I am fully made up, smiling cheerfully within the mirror's false reflection of myself.

Unbeknownst to my boyfriend and the male population in general, natural is no longer in. Anyone within my community that is without the props and the gimmicks are no longer sought after, regardless of the beauty they may display. If you do not display the sultry eyes, the plump, red lips, the radiant skin, or the long, luscious hair, you are a nobody to the world. You are but a monster.

Even though us women have come to this shallow conclusion, we are often pressured by our mates to appreciate our raw beauty, though we, including myself, have undergone severe torment countless times in the past by boyfriends who have witnessed our natural selves. I want to be able to love my appearance, I want to be self confident and shout to the world that I am beautiful, but reality will not allow such blasphemous speech.

Regardless of my fear, regardless of the unknown reaction my mate would have of me, I broke down enough to allow my boyfriend to stay the night.

How silly of me.

As I showered, I heard the bathroom door crack open. To anyone else, that was an invite to more adventurous routes of intimacy, but, to me, it was fear inducing. Just as I expected, the familiar sound of shock filled the air.

"W-what the fuck," he said, shakily.

I turned the water off, slowly pulling the shower curtain open with hesitant hands. Once exposed, my boyfriend's gaze met mine, and though his eyes travelled up and down my nude body, the one he was so in love with previously, the look he displayed when he met my face was heartbreaking.

"Can we talk about this?" I questioned as he began backing away, his eyes wild with horror.

He shook his head, trembling as he stumbled over his own shoes.

"Where the fuck is your nose? W- what the fuck are you?" he questioned, hysterically.

I let out a deep sigh, extending my arms out towards him.

"Please, don't do this," I said, pleading with him.

He continued backing away, turning his head swiftly towards the door, calculating how far a run it would be to make it out.

"You can't leave," I said, shaking my head as tears fell down my cheeks.

Because of my sudden deepened voice, his attention turned back to me, his expression even more horrified with the swift change of tone. As they all have in the past, he sprinted towards the door, hectically rotating the knob, forgetting to unlock the countless locks bolted on the frame.

I watched on for a while, observing his horror, shock, and obvious repulsion of me. The anger began to swell as it had for years. The disappointment I felt as I witnessed him try to abandon me, forgetting the amount of courage it took me to I reveal myself without the added hair, the fake tan, the prosthetic nose and ears, the hazel contact lenses, and the collagen filled lips... He didn't appreciate my efforts to please him... He thought I was hideous just as his predecessors had.

So, as he struggled with the last lock, screaming for help, I walked over, helping him unlock the door. Once outside, he began running down the hall, unbeknownst to the growing population of women in the halls. Once he ran up to one of the women, pointing at the monster he pegged me as, the woman reassured him, lowering him to the ground as various others gathered around him. Slowly, realization sunk in of his dire situation. The women all removed their masks, the ones my fellow sisters were confined in because societal standards, and began ripping him apart. 