She raises the brush to her face and in a gentle sweep from a perfectly practiced hand
Blemishes are concealed.
Not gone, oh no, never gone. Tonight when she peels away her mask
They will still be there.
But for the time being at least there’s peace of mind in the layers between every discoloration,
Zit, blackhead, spots, imperfection.
She sets the brush down and moves her hands across the various cases set in front of her.
She sighs in assurance, taking comfort in the bottles, tubes, and glasses in front of her.
Her Sephora and Dior. Mary Kay and L’Oreal. Estee Lauder and Cover Girl.
How ugly I would be, she thinks
Without my makeup.
Skin dry and red without the creams and lotions.
Eyes dull and plain without the liners and mascara.
Lips chapped and bare without the glosses, plumpers, liners, balms, and conditioners.
No glow without bronzer, no definition without blush, so ordinary!
She adds and adds the decorations to her mask, colors and finishes.
Chiseling a sculpture, alterations and modifications. Crafting a brand new face with her tools.
Red, red lips. Clear, clear skin. Long lashes and defining eyes!
She admires the mask and her manmade beauty.
Now, I am beautiful.