I'm an Addict.

My name is Lauren, and I've been an addict for the last ten years.
But not to drugs, I never have been and never will be.
Or sex, porn, or anything of the sexual sort.
It's not tobacco, or cigarettes, I can't stand the smell.
Nor alcohol--I don't like the taste of wine and beer makes me fall asleep faster than 4 pills of melatonin.
Neither is it popping pills.
I'm not addicted to relationships, or hopping from guy to guy.
My addiction isn't any worse or any better than the next, but it is detrimental.
It rules my life and determines my actions, and all too often my attitude.
My addiction is common, too common, but sadly most people don't see anything wrong with it.

They enjoy the rush and the heightened sense of empowerment that it brings if done correctly. It doesn't take much skill or knowledge, but for those of us who consider ourselves 'artists' or 'masters' of the trade, it's amazing how one can be transformed, disfigured, beautified, destroyed. Such an addiction doesn't bring any true physical harm to the body, unless taken to extremes or placed in the hands of the ignorant, but it brings volumes of damage to one's soul--especially their identities.
Like most others' addictions, mine is hard to break, especially after a solid ten years of daily use. 

I was given a small taste when I was twelve, but it wasn't until I was 14 that my addiction took flight and it became as necessary as the air I breathe. It may not seem like a lot of money is spent on my addiction, unless you want the really good stuff. Then it can reach exuberant amounts--which explains how the industry makes $52.5 billion a year on average.

My addiction comes in all manner of shapes and sizes, it's contents can come in the form of liquids, powders, and a slew of chemicals I won't bother trying to pronounce. Within fifteen minutes, a mask was painted, and my identity was lost. My innocence hidden. My truth disguised behind a mascara mask. 

I'm addicted to makeup. 
I'm addicted to "looking beautiful".
I have been since I was fourteen years old.


Makeup is my nicotine.
Makeup is my choice of poison.
Makeup is my high.
Makeup is my satisfaction.
Makeup is who (I think) I am.

I've tried, and tried, and tried to give it up. I can go one day in a blue moon without it, just for a refreshing change. And it's especially hard coming from Las Vegas, NV, where how you dress is showcasing to the world a perception of "who you are" like the thousands of billboards that plague our streets with beautiful people demonstrating "how beautiful should look." 

But the truth is I secretly feel most beautiful right after a shower when I am completely clean, and free of any masks. I am as I am. But I'm not ready to share that with the world because the world rejects the beauty I see before me. It says it wants a "natural look" but it then shows you the many products and necessities to achieve the "perfect", "natural" appearance. Perfect, beautiful people don't have acne, neither do they have pale faces that are a different tone from the rest of your body. Rosy cheeks don't exist without blush, and heaven forbid your eyes shine without a highlight eyeshadow. 

Sure my face is still really red and the acne is always there. No my eyes don't pop as much, but neither are they hidden behind black veils. My lips look smaller, but at least they can breathe. My lashes aren't as long, but they're now soft to touch. My hair isn't glued with hairspray to defy the humid Texas weather, and it's nice to feel how soft it is without any products left after a hot shower. 

One of my closest friends, said it so eloquently yesterday in saying, "When you wear makeup you're hiding behind a mask of lies that hides your true identity." And it's so true. Just look at these two photos and you will see my entire countenance shifts: 

Even though I am in the same clothes, same room, same lighting, same everything, just by putting on makeup I exude more confidence and power, whereas without it I am more withdrawn and fearful. 

But my face never changed.

The only thing that changed was my confidence which altered my countenance.  

I only put makeup on my left side, while the right is void.

Honestly, I love and hate my addiction.
I don't love it enough to keep going as I am, but neither do I hate it enough to quit everything.
Instead, I am starting with baby steps. 
I'm taking it one day at a time. 
I'm starting to take it easy by slowing cutting things down and out.

I threw away all my dark/red lipsticks, I'm sticking to the naturals.
I don't wear as much bronzer or blush.
I don't wear eyeshadows except on special occasions.
I don't wear as much eyeliner, and it's nowhere near as thick.
I don't curl (or glue) my hair everyday, now it's like three times a week, sometimes four.
I'm not afraid to go one day with no eyeliner, no lipsticks another, and once in a blue moon I may go with none at all--unless my acne is bad, then I'll just throw on foundation and a little mascara.
It's a process, a long and hard one. But in the process there is progress. It may be small, but it's there. 

I won't cut it out completely, because I do enjoy it, and as long as there's acne there will be foundation, but I do want to try and go as "natural" as I actually can. I'm not saying makeup is bad, because I find it fun and refreshing to change how you look for certain events, but when you've reached the point where you won't even go to the gas station without embracing the full face, therein lies the problem. That, dear friends, is where you find an addiction. I'm not saying this is a post for everyone, perhaps it simply was for me to get a deeper revelation for myself. Or maybe this is just a start for someone else's journey to find their true identity beyond the mascara mask they embrace everyday. But if you can't allow people, especially those closest to you, see you as you are, without any makeup, any alterations, any masks, then you have a deeper root of fear of man, and issues, than you care to admit which can later lead to deeper strongholds and worse demons you will one day have to face. 

And that, dear friends, is where the trouble begins. 

Rome wasn't built in a day, and Babylon didn't fall in an hour. 

Everything is a process, and in every process there can be progress or regress. 

Progress looks and feels different for everyone, so just because someone is making more quicker than you does not mean you're not making any.

Take heart, take truth, and know that beauty is determined from the inside out, because no amount of makeup can change the character of the heart.

-Saint