mary-poppins11Right before our wedding I got a “practice” make-over, hoping—as all brides do—that on the most photographed day of my life I would look stunning. I told the woman that I wanted something “light and natural looking.” The above picture shows me later that night. The subtext of the picture is the rest of the evening, where Levi doesn’t stop laughing at me because it turns out that when I wear makeup I look like a member of the BYU Ballroom Dance team.

I’ve discovered that it’s too late for me to start wearing a normal amount of makeup. It’s okay to have an awkward makeup line on your jaw when you’re thirteen, but not thirteen years later. The awkward jaw line is a necessary stage in my theory of personal cosmetic development. This theory functions similarly to psychosocial development, as prescribed by Erik Erikson and brought to the people by Wikipedia: “In each stage the person confronts, and hopefully masters, new challenges. Each stage builds on the successful completion of earlier stages.” And here’s the kicker:  “The challenges of stages not successfully completed may be expected to reappear as problems in the future.” 

Reference above photograph. The reason that I looked ridiculous after getting a normal makeover is because I tried to jump straight to the “makeup-that-looks-good-on-your-face” stage, without ever passing through the cherry chapstick stage, the jaw line stage, the Wet ‘n Wild stage, the too-thick eyeliner stage. You can’t just start wearing Mac that was applied professionally.

And that line of reasoning also explains why I couldn’t just start having bangs. Like all the sudden I have a haircut that tends towards trendy, even though I don’t have dangly earrings, bangle bracelets, and have never worn leg warmers on my arms? No chance. 

But I didn’t think this through and now I’m stuck with them. And the only solution, I fear, is to go back to stage one of bangs. Pass the Aquanet and a curling iron with a quarter-inch barrel.