I look wicked.
That was my first thought as the makeup artist handed me a mirror to inspect the work she had done so far. She had completed only my brows but I could already see similarities between Cruella De Vil and me.
I voiced my thoughts to her and not only did she argue in support of her work, saying my brows looked perfect, she also kept insisting that it was the norm for eyebrows to look like an exaggerated, overturned tick.
Yes. The almighty Nike brows.
“Madam, I look wicked,” I said again, a horrified expression on my reflection in the mirror I held.
“Aunty, it’s not bad,” she said emphatically.
I didn’t know what to say. At that point, my face and I were unsure of what to do, though two things flowed through my mind.
Do I tell her to stop and find another solution?
Do I tell her to carry on with the hopes that I won’t end up looking like a horror movie afterwards?
I chose the latter, though I strongly considered the former but the reason I was getting my makeup done in the first place was for my friend’s 30th birthday dinner, which was starting in less than 45 minutes. I certainly didn’t have the time (nor the tools, which I had left at home since the plan was to go straight to the restaurant from the makeup studio) to tell her to stop. There was another makeup artist there whose work was satisfactory, however, she was occupied with getting my friend, the celebrant’s makeup done. Continue reading “This Is Not My Real Face”