I can't always decide how I feel about makeup. I've gone through
phases in my life where I'll wear makeup, but for the most part I go
clean-faced. Invariably, each time I get into wearing makeup daily,
something funny happens: people tell me I look better without it. In
my defense, I want to make it known that, with the exception of when
I was trying makeup out for the first time in the seventh grade, I
have never used excessive makeup. My use of foundation and powder and eyeliner has always been moderate to none. My focus has always been on my eyes (just a bit of mascara) and my lips (my most valuable
asset). If I use blush it's usually just a little to accentuate the
rosiness of my cheeks (plus just a touch on the nose and forehead, of
course). I've always felt that my application of makeup has been done
tastefully and conservatively and I have certainly gotten my fair
share of positive attention due to my outward appearance while
wearing makeup. But inevitably, a friend or boyfriend or even someone
I barely know at all will tell me how much nicer I look without
makeup. I know that this is meant as a compliment, but when I am
feeling especially self-effacing, I can't help but wonder if they are
trying to tell me, in the nicest way they can find, that I look awful
with or without makeup on and that at least without makeup on, I
don't look like I'm trying so hard. Are you getting the sense of why
I call myself the hesitant beauty?

Usually, though, I think back at what people have said to me about
makeup and I really appreciate them. In fact, I often feel fortunate
that people have bothered to tell me this little secret. It would be
truly awful if I went through my whole life thinking that I was only
pretty because makeup made me pretty. I still love wearing makeup for
special events, parties and costumes, but I don't feel the need to
wear it on an everyday basis.

I look at people who are bound by wearing makeup so much that they
couldn't bear to be seen without it. The kind of people who have to
"put their face on" in order to feel normal. This would be a little
taste of hell for me. I like to be well-groomed, to look good, to
dress fashionably, to try cool hairstyles, even sometimes to wear
makeup, but I can also walk out the door, having thrown on a pair of
jeans, a t-shirt and pulled my hair back in a simple pony-tail and
feel great (and comfortable, too).

First of all, that term - root rot. It's so vile. For those of you
who don't know, it's what happens when your hair is colored, but you
haven't had it recolored for a while. All of the fresh, untainted
hair is called root rot. Ugh. Even something like "virgin root" or
"baby root" (a vaguely cute pun) would be nicer.

Anyway, whatever you want to call it, I've got it. At this point my
"virgin root" is about two inches long. It is starting to get
embarrassing. And while for most things, I tend to choose natural,
good-for-you products, with hair dye, I go all out. In fact I use
Wella hair dye, straight from Sally's Beauty Supply. Nothing natural
about that, but it's cheap and it lasts a very long time, hence the
reason my two-inch long root rot is so distinct.

My hairdresser and I had a falling out and now, I'm faced with the
challenge/hassle of figuring out what to do about it. I think it's
going to come down to talking one of my friends to do it for me. I
have all of the product, I just can't seem to get good full coverage
when I try to do it on myself. My hair's too thick. Plus it can get
pretty messy. I've gone the "friend" route before, but it really is a
lot to ask of someone. It takes a lot longer than you'd think. And
not everyone loves spending 30 minutes mashing color into someone's
head.

Maybe I'll just cut all of my hair off. I'll keep you posted.

I'm going to spare you the introductions for the moment. I think
you'll start to get to know me, over time. The best way to introduce
myself is just to launch into my world.

Last weekend, I had a fashion crisis. Admittedly, a fashion crisis
isn't the sort of crisis that can compete with the likes of having
toxic sludge polluting your water supply or having your country
overtaken by civil war, but in my little world it can feel like
momentary, yet extreme catastrophe.

There are times when preparing myself for the world can be simple,
fluid, even fun. But then there are the moments when, for no apparent
reason, my world crashes around me and I can do no right. Outfits
that have always worked in the past are wretchedly unflattering. That
hairstyle I've been flaunting for the past two weeks is suddenly
embarrassingly repulsive. I've just showered but I look greasy and
unkempt. The crisis can take many shapes, and it often results in
some sort of unhappy compromise, accompanied by an underlying sense
of discomfort that lingers until I am able to remove the offending
articles. In my frenzy I will often throw three other options into a
bag to have in the car with me just so I know that I can sneak out
and change at any moment. In short, I go completely bonkers. But, the
sad truth is that going out in an outfit you hate, especially during
a fashion crisis, is equivalent to going out in public completely
naked.

This is what happened to me last Saturday. To make matters worse, I
was late for the wedding I was getting dressed to attend and it was
not a walk-in-when-you-feel-like-it sort of event. I must have tried
on fifteen different outfits and done my hair in at least five
different ways in my attempt to find something that made me happy.
Instead, I was sinking further and further into self-hatred and
gradually losing my grip on reality. I was shaking and sweating and
running around like a madwoman. At the last possible moment, I
scrapped everything, reached deep into my closet for a simple outfit
that was so neutral, it was hard to hate. I threw on some basic
heels, scrunched my hair a couple of times and let it hang au natural
without even a bobby pin to alter it's shape, and ran out the door.

I made it through the day without so much as a sideways glance from
someone wondering how I could have left the house looking like
"that." Some compliments were even thrown my way. But even though I
make it through these times without doing any permanent damage, when
I'm in the throes of fashion crisis, I've realized that all I want is
the comfort of my everyday jeans and a t-shirt.