No, You Actually Don’t Need To Do Your Makeup Right Now.

Written By: Jillian Giandurco

Ever since I began working from home 35 days ago (but really, who’s counting), I’ve been bombarded with WFH content at every turn. Everyone seems to think that “getting ready like you used to, to kickstart productivity” is an extremely unique and valuable perspective that only they have. If this has helped you in the past month, amazing! I couldn’t be happier. But there’s no denying that all of these loud, WFH insta-experts have made it impossible for anyone to advocate for the other side. What about those of us who don’t feel the same way?

Now, if you are frequently having video meetings with your superiors, then I say yes, get ready for professionalism’s sake. Personally, all of my work is distributed via email, which means I have virtually no reason to get dressed everyday. When I tell this to others, they take pity on me, like I’m some sort of motivationless recluse. But guess what? I don’t have to. And more importantly, I don’t want to. I’m a firm believer in “inside clothes,” and “outside clothes,” and my choice to stay in my inside clothes all day is simply an extension of how I used to operate B.C. 19 (before COVID-19). 

The same goes for my feelings towards makeup. If you are someone who uses makeup as a coping mechanism, then by all means, cope, cope, cope. I, on the other hand, have a rather toxic relationship to makeup, and it is the last thing I want to turn to at a time like this. 

I’ve struggled with acne on and off for a million and a half years, or so it feels. I can go a full year without having any major issues, only to be slapped across the face completely out of the blue with a whole new strain of acne I’ve never had. I knew I was headed for disaster in the very beginning of 2020, when I had seven extremely large and painful whiteheads breach my skin’s surface in the span of four weeks. I occasionally suffer from closed comedones, which means I develop little whiteheads beneath the surface of my skin. They sit there for months on end, unbothered, and eventually work their way out and take the physical form of my worst nightmare. Seven may not sound like a lot, but when you’ve gone a full year without a major breakout, and they each leave behind an incredibly dark ring of hyperpigmentation, it can be difficult to keep yourself from spiraling. 

The first week I worked from home, my skin was the best it had been in months, and, all things considered, I was feeling better than I had since December. Soon after, however, my skin reverted right back to the place I had just dug myself out of. I am currently nursing two cheeks worth of hyperpigmentation, and this realization has not been treating me kindly. Of course, I could just throw on some makeup to distract myself from my appearance, but the thought of doing so is somehow worse. 

When my skin is at its best, I don’t wear much makeup, if any. I’ve always hated it, to be quite honest. My only real exposure to it growing up was stage makeup, and goodness gracious there is nothing I hate more. Subsequently, this means I only ever break out the makeup when my skin is doing poorly and my facial dysmorphia is acting up. I’ve subconsciously connected the two threads together, and have grown to blame makeup for my negative perceptions of self. Deep down I know that wearing concealer is not the root of my sadness, but it is much easier for me to hold my makeup accountable than my defiant, ever-changing, acne prone, skin condition. No, it is certainly not easy walking past the mirrors in my apartment and being constantly reminded of the months of struggles that lay ahead, but I can’t imagine how sad I would feel right now if, on top of my new skin reality, I also had to pretend I’m someone I’m not by putting on makeup to take on the day. 

Two years ago, when my skin was at its absolute worst, I couldn’t even go to the kitchen for a granola bar without a full face of foundation and concealer. I was so ashamed of my appearance that I refused to let my closest friends see my skin. This past month, however, has forced me to face my roommates without any trace of makeup to hide my breakouts and redness. If you had asked me to do that in 2018, I genuinely don’t think I would have been able to. I still apply my foundation for my sanity-walks around the block, but my apartment is my safe space, and that means no makeup for me. 

Maybe this situation is unique to me and me only. But I feel that there has been an increased societal pressure to make everyone working from home adhere to a certain beauty standard, and I’m here to remind you that everyone is experiencing this pandemic differently. If you are somehow able to write your King Lear right now, go off king. If you aren’t, that is completely acceptable, too. And if you don’t think getting all dolled up is right for you, you’re not the only one. There is no need to set a precedent about what people should and should not be doing right now, because the nature of our current situation is quite literally unprecedented.