I’m going back to college on a Thursday to study massage.
It counts as a beauty therapy and I am about as far from a typical beauty therapy student as you can get.
I’m totally stereotyping here by the way and don’t have an issue with people who take pride in their appearance. It’s not that I don’t care about how I look…actually, it is.
You see, I have self confidence issues stemming from the way I look. I hate my face. I hate my chin. I hate the spots I have constantly. So many years of hating my looks have made me apathetic about them. I do my own kind of ignorance pleading.
“I honestly didn’t know I looked like shit. You mean I haven’t shaved my legs in four months? Oh that? That hair on my chin? Yeah, it’s attached. I call it Fred.”
Years of being apathetic mean I rarely shave (my legs and pits. Never the face. Fred stays!), I don’t wear make up, I don’t care if O is sick on my shoulder. I constantly have some child related stains on my trousers and my hands are covered in pen.
When I do wear make up, I still put it on the same way I learnt at school when I was 14. I remember being taught how to scrape my hair back off my face into a tight bun and slapping on the foundation in the year 11 toilets. My mantra is “there is no such thing as too much eyeliner.”
I’m also one of those people who can wear a brand new suit and still look like they just wore it to bed.
It scares me. I want this. I want to pass and be professional. I want to do other things with this and I’m shitting myself that my looks will let me down.