Plane Jane

I am a plane jane. Here's a weird concept, I love makeup, but I don't always love to wear it. Most times I prefer to go naked (makeupwise)...hence my being a plane jane. It's ok, you can think so. I got teased for being a sarah plain and tall. I am very tall too. It bugged me back then, but now....not so much. I care what I think I look like, but I don't care what you think I look like. Haha. Well, sometimes I like to plain jane it at work... I figure why do I bother with all the gunk. I wasn't born with it on me, so why do I put it on (again, I'm talking about makeup here)... Sometimes I wonder what all that crap has in it... can it cause cancer or will it have some other adverse affect on my skin when I am older? Who decided that people's faces needed more color? That they needed to be made up? I would like to kick his (or her) butt! Well, I can't help but be stuck in the world of makeup because I end up getting to work and then seeing my pale, unmade face in the mirror under the harsh fluorescent lights and I freak. I should have at least used mascara or even just a little eyeliner! Then, I go home and experiment with my makeup - I have a lot... how much... you don't want to know. I think this replaces a shoe fetish? Anyway... I make myself up and I feel really pretty and then I go and wash it off... And then I wear makeup to work for a few months.... then I forget how awful I feel I look without it and get brave and I junk it for a day and go sans the clown stuff. Then I see myself in the mirror... and the whole cycle starts itself over again. Vicious cycle of inanity!