I don’t really know what the attraction was. I was about 12, and had been wearing my sister’s panties and hose. But I had never tried making my face look like a girl’s. Yeah, a year later I would start dating the girl who liked putting makeup on me. But when I was 12, it wasn’t a “turn on.” Sure, it became one eventually. But not then. Anyway…
It was my mom’s makeup that I tried on. Maybe it’s the obvious choice, but lipstick was my first inclination. It had to be red, of course. I put it on, took it off, re-applied it. Back and forth until I finally liked the way it looked. A 12 year old boy with deep red lipstick. Naturally, I stared in the mirror, puckering my lips like the ladies I’d excitedly ogled in a pilfered Playboy.
The next item was rouge. Blush. I didn’t put it only on the apples of my cheek like I do today. (Oops! Did I just confess to wearing blush?) I put it all over my cheeks. I must’ve looked like I was either totally embarrassed, or perhaps I had Rosacia.
Mascara. That fascinates…fascinated me when I was 12. My friend Tommy was blessed with beautiful, long, feminine lashes. Everyone told him so. Maybe I wanted them, too. But for whatever reason I tried to use the wand to apply the dark goop to my lashes without poking my eyes. It’s really not as hard as it may seem to apply. (Actually, I just saw a tutorial that suggested using a business card behind your lashes when applying mascara, so any residual makeup gets on the card, not your eyelid. Brilliant!)
And with that, I was finished. (This was before lipgloss.) In my opinion, I looked pretty good. I had done a pretty good job. I looked pretty. That was where the excitement was. It wasn’t necessarily the steps it took, but the end result. I looked like a girl. Well…to my 12 year-old eyes. It was ultimately about how it made me feel, instead of how it made me look. I felt pretty. I kind of liked looking like a girl. It felt comfortable. It felt…right.
It didn’t start to be a daily thing until a couple years later. Even then, it was only concealer. That’s all. I still wear makeup everyday. Base. Bronzer. A little mascara, sometimes. Even though I think it’s subtle, it might look completely obvious to everyone. Hell, I don’t know how others see me. But regardless of how I look to others, I like the way it makes me feel.
Yesterday, I decided to make up my face completely. I mean, full on. But I didn’t want to look…tacky. I was just curious how good I would be at applying it. Since I’ve worn makeup, I get free samples and things from stores. Over the years I’ve amassed a large supply of various cosmetics. So, I set out yesterday to make myself look sexy, but not trashy. It might seem like a no-brainer since I was, after all, wearing panties and hose already. So, after about 20 minutes, I was finished.
I had put it on. I was actually surprised at my skill. Of course, I took selfies. I took a lot of selfies. (You’re in luck! I’m going to add one of them below! Don’t you just FEEL lucky?!)
After I had removed all the makeup, I kept staring at those pictures. I reluctantly sent one to a straight friend who was at work, but through texting, he knew what I had been up to. He texted me right after I sent him a picture. His response? “Damn! Those lips! That’s hot.” I’m not making this up. (Ha! Get it! “Making this up”?) I texted back “I don’t know. Maybe I overdid it.” His reply came instantly. “No. I think it’s not too much or too little. It looks just right.” Wow. A married, straight friend.
Even today, over 24 hours after my “experiment”, I’m still checking out my pictures. I’ll never forget my friend Jimmy’s texted responses. It confirmed what I had hoped for after putting on all that makeup. I looked…pretty.
This is the actual, real picture of me from my makeup playing on 7/27/16.