Baby Years: Birth Times
Here I am, straight out the womb. Don't be crazy, I have zero tips on beauty at this point. I don't even know how to open my damn eyes, much less how to apply eyeliner to make your eyes look larger. I still have ink on my feet, for Chrissakes. But I did have dapper as eff taste in headwear.
Non-Angsty Childhood Years: I'm Just a Girl
Childhood: so full of wondrous moments of innocence and tiny pairs of acid-washed jeans. At this point in life, I didn't think about looks very much. Even when I begged to be in a kiddie beauty pageant, and my mom said eff to the no, I didn't think about what my face looked like, or how weird my jaunty teeth were, I just wanted a fancy ass dress. But looking back, here are the things I know with certainty:
- Sometimes the dentist will tell you that you'll need braces when you're, like, five, and sometimes those bitches will just straighten themselves out pretty well.
- Spiral perms.
- This is the pinnacle of your hair's color. Hopefully, an adult will capture these moments, so your mane can vicariously live through it again when you're an adult, and you can keep trying to recapture those natural highlights via chemical endeavors and experiments and fail completely.
I think we can all agree that puberty can seriously suck it. There are exactly zero things that are physically, emotionally, and whatever-else-lly more awkward than the pre-teen years of life. I was forced to learn a lot from this time in my life, due to sheer survival more than anything else. Seriously, if there's a hell, #1) I'm probably going, and #2) it's just living your pubescent years over and over again. I think you get the point. Here are my learnings from this tragic ass era:
- The first time you get highlights at the mall with money from your high school job, stop using your bullshit 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. Your hair isn't falling out because you have cancer (I DOESN'T WORK THAT WAY), it's because you actually have to take care of your head hairs now.
- If your skin is really awful and acne-prone, go to a dermatologist and get some help before it gets completely out of control and you are semi-disfigured. I know you're embarrassed, and everything is beyond embarrassing right now, but it can dictate your skin life forever, ever.
- Maybe don't have bangs. Bangs are kind of a rude bitch to deal with even for adults, and your hair styling skill level is not ready for that jelly.
The late teens/early 20's years are almost like a second puberty. Life is friggin' hard, and this is the time you're trying to figure out what the hell you're doing. Let me tell you a secret that might save you some strife, early twenty-somethings: I STILL DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING, SO STOP FREAKING OUT. I'm sure I'll feel the same way at 40. We should all calm our figurative tits. This is what I learned about beauty from these turbulent times:
- Do whatever the hell you want with your hair/makeup/whatever non-permanent crap at this point in your life. This is the time to try weird shit. The only exception is telling your 50-something temp hair lady to "do whatever she wants" to your hair. She'll give you a sassy, flippy haircut that matches her own, and your Senior pictures will be straight-up (now tell me) awful. And you'll be forced to stare them down on your parents' mantle for the next 40 years.
- DO NOT TAN. You're going to want to, but don't. Your skin will thank you by not looking like a Slim Jim that's been pickling in a jar of vinegar later.
- Go easy on the eyebrows. Sometimes those mofos will up and quit your face, refusing to grow back. Tweeze with caution.
Getting older is some kind of witchy weirdness, man. On one hand, it's a medium-sized bag of poop, because we're all crazy youth-obsessed and want to look like sexy teenaged elves until we're 60, and that shit ain't real. But, weirdly, something cool happens when you start jumping up that age chart. You start to not care about stuff so much. Remember when Oprah (or some person) was all, "Don't sweat the small stuff'?" That actually becomes the truth.com after 30. Here's the deal, for real:
- Let your "Who gives 1.5 craps? Not me!" flag fly on occasion. The 25 year old me would never even check the mail without glitz pageant makeup. The almost mid-30's me goes to dinner, movies, food truck rallies, bacon buying excursions -- you get the point -- in a bun and zero makeup sometimes. It's just your face and semi-dirty hair. It's all cool.
- Actually take care of yourself, even though that mess is boring. The older we get, the more what you actually put into your body and working out and stuff matters. Even when it comes to skin and hair, it makes a huge difference. I know, so boring.
- Take your skin care routine all the way down to chesticle town. We have to fight the good fight against the wrinkly chest-in-between-the-boobs deal as much as we can, you guys. Together we can win(ish) the fight.
That's it. I'm all out of years (thank Jesus), and I've poured out all of my brain's non-wisdoms for your eyeballs. The bottom line is, wherever you are in your lifespan, enjoy that shit. You'll never get it back, so live it up. Sorry for the cheese, now pass the nachos. And the margaritas.