40 minutes until we need to be on stage. 

I zone out as I look up at the clock in anticipation, trying not to cry as my mom applies eyeliner on my waterline. The next thing I know, another dance mom smears my face with three tons of a foundation too light for my skin and the brightest red lipstick known to man. 

Ten minutes until the curtains open. 

My dance teacher checks our hair, makeup and costumes to make sure everything is appropriately hairsprayed and oriented. She peers at my face intently before turning to my mom and saying, “Her eyes are too small. She needs more eyeliner.”

A confused, 6-year-old me looks to my mom in bewilderment. She pulls me aside and layers eyeliner so black and bold that when I look in the mirror, I see two, empty black voids in lieu of my eyes. Before the age of ten, I was already using makeup more than my peers.

My sister and I had monthly dance performances and competitions, during which I often experimented with different brands and styles of makeup. We constantly had to buy more foundation and eyeliner. I would steal my older sister’s foundation and try it on myself, learning how to blend appropriately with practice. My experimentation began as a way for me to hide my dark circles and blemishes, but I gradually added more and more products to my makeup bag out of curiosity. As I kept practicing my makeup routine to improve, my confidence started to depend on it. I couldn’t leave the house without foundation, mascara, blush or concealer. I hated my bare face. It was unbearable to look at myself in the mirror. All I could see were the imperfections that everyone had pointed out as a kid — dark spots, small eyes, pale skin. I felt too ugly to show my face to others without pounds of makeup on top. 

So every school day, I dragged myself out of bed at 6:30 a.m. to do my makeup so I could feel presentable enough to show my face. Operating on five hours of sleep, I sat at my desk, unzipped my makeup bag and wearily applied moisturizer to my face. I fought to keep my eyes open as I drearily blended out my concealer, curling my lashes to force them open again. Doing my makeup every single day — every time I went outside for any occasion, even if I were just going to the grocery store — was exhausting.

I glanced in the mirror before heading out. It was the same routine as always, but I wasn’t looking at me — I was looking at an artificial, imperfect version of myself. No matter how much I tried to cover up my flaws, I always managed to point out something wrong with my face. My skin was peeling off under my eyes and on the dark spots next to my mouth, crumbling under the weight of my desire for perfection. I hated seeing all that concealer on my face. It accentuated my flaws instead of hiding them.

With a pit in my stomach, I went to school thoroughly unsatisfied with my appearance. I couldn’t stop itching my eyes given the amount of mascara coated on my eyelashes. My face broke out in pimples due to the daily application of foundation. I was mentally and physically drained from my makeup routine, and the result no longer seemed to be worth the hours spent. I hated the thought of people seeing me in this state. As soon as I got home, I rushed to the bathroom and frantically scrubbed my makeup off my face in frustration — desperate to free myself from the burden of perfectionism. 

After drying my face, I gazed upon my bare face in my reflection. This time, I didn’t see small eyes or dark circles. I saw myself — natural and true — without dense concealer pointing out skin drier than a desert or heavy mascara that made my eyes water from the discomfort. My skin glowed, looking better than it had ever looked with mountains of makeup. I had never let my true self breathe. It had always been trapped under layers of makeup, desperately trying to break through.

Instead of feeling bare and vulnerable to my flaws, I learned to accept them. By simply shifting my focus to the full picture of my appearance rather than hyper-fixating on the minute flaws that I had dwelled on, I could avoid this endless cycle of trying to look “perfect.”

When I do decide to do my makeup, I no longer rely on eyeliner, mascara, foundation and concealer to try and hide my insecurities. I use minimal products to simply enhance the features I have come to love and accept, letting my true self take the spotlight.

With this newfound freedom, I emphasize self-care and rejuvenation rather than masking myself to fit unrealistic expectations. On school days, I wake up at 7:30 a.m., refreshed instead of exhausted, and wash my face with a hydrating cleanser and apply moisturizer before packing my bag and getting in the car. Through healing my worn-out skin, I slowly repair my broken image, strengthening my confidence in my true, authentic self.