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For her birthday, my daughter received her very first makeup kit, and like many kids today, she eagerly suggested we dive into YouTube makeup tutorials to try out some “looks.” After a lengthy search, we stumbled onto a “beginner-friendly” tutorial. She was captivated, while I was left utterly bewildered.
What were all these products? What were these techniques? Terms like “bake,” “contour,” “cut crease,” and “waterline” were flying around. Why did she need so many brushes? Was that a kitchen sponge? What had happened to makeup since my last encounter, which was clearly ages ago? When did all this complexity become the norm for beginners?
Suddenly, I felt like I had been applying makeup incorrectly my entire life. I was transported back to my awkward teenage years, when I’d watch the glam girls perfect their looks post-gym class with envy. I realized nobody had ever truly taught me about makeup application outside of that iconic scene from “My Girl,” and I highly doubted that the saying “a girl can never have too much blue eyeshadow” still held any weight. Honestly, my current makeup collection was only marginally better than the Caboodles kit she just got. I had never once bought anything from a real makeup store for myself. I was a makeup latecomer, and the idea of a “glow up” felt foreign.
I didn’t want her to see me grappling with feelings of inadequacy.
As we stood before the bathroom mirror attempting to recreate the tutorial, she looked to me for guidance, expecting a seasoned makeup user of twenty years to take the lead. I began as I usually do, applying foundation straight to my face, and she immediately interrupted, “That’s not how she did it, Mom.” She rolled her eyes when I reused the same brush for foundation and blush. My cheeks were turning red from the pressure, which, ironically, helped since that blush wasn’t particularly pigmented (I think I used that term correctly).
I glanced at her, unsure of what to say. The stress sweat was starting to form, which is not ideal for makeup application. Should I admit to her that I had no clue what I was doing, even though I did it every day? That I was completely out of my depth in this area?
I tried to recall what my own mother had told me while we stood together at the bathroom mirror in my childhood home, after I had won the battle of “you’re not old enough.” She said, “You have such natural beauty, you don’t even need to wear makeup.” I had believed that back then, but now I was questioning whether it was just a strategy to keep me from using it.
This little version of me certainly didn’t need makeup at all, so I hoped my mother’s words would help me avoid revealing my shortcomings, and I echoed the same sentiment to her.
My daughter tilted her head, shot me a sassy look, and popped her hip in disapproval. “I know I don’t need it, but I want it.”
Well, touché, tiny human.
This was one of those defining mother-daughter moments, and I felt I was failing miserably with my awkward makeup skills. On the brink of what could’ve been a bonding disaster that might haunt her for life, I pivoted to a more refined version of “I don’t know what I’m doing” and suggested, “How about we just have fun with it, okay?”
Her face lit up, and she quickly embraced the plan. She began mimicking the tutorial, treating me like her client and talking into the mirror as if it were a camera. She held up each product she intended to use and sweetly called me “honey.” She giggled and repeated words she’d heard, admitting she didn’t know what they meant. I chuckled too because I was just as clueless. I went along with her not-so-gentle brush strokes, the pokes to my eyes, and the wild array of colors she applied. My face was practically overloaded with product, but she declared, “That’s on trend!” She cradled my face in her hands and told me I was beautiful, to which I replied that she was stunning just as she was.
By the end of our makeup adventure, it felt more like the bonding experience I had envisioned rather than an interrogation into my makeup skills. Perhaps I could keep my secret a little longer. In the meantime, it might be wise for me to brush up (pun intended) on some tutorials in case she challenges me again. Maybe I should also practice my makeup in private and consult friends who are more experienced. I have some catching up to do before she realizes the truth.
If you’re interested in similar topics, check out this post on home insemination for more insights. For those looking into fertility resources, Make a Mom offers expert advice, and NHS provides excellent information on pregnancy and home insemination.
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In summary, navigating the world of makeup alongside my daughter was both enlightening and entertaining. It reminded me that even in my uncertainty, we could create meaningful moments together.
Keyphrase: makeup tutorial bonding
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