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Chapter 10
by SophiePert
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Appreciating Beauty
There is a real benefit to this, to makeup, that I don't think is truly talked about. Not that I've been paying much attention to the discourse around makeup, but I don't know how many people really address the benefits of getting to know your face.
But when you're applying makeup it's more than just going through the steps, at least when you're a beginner like me. You're learning. You're concentrating on every element of it and you're addressing yourself, focusing on yourself, more than I ever did as a man.
Maybe that's why I'm having a hard time remembering myself. I never really looked quite as closely at me as I do at her.
There are little quirks in her face. There are unique little elements around her cheeks, her chin, her nose. There are bits and pieces of her that are unlike anything or anyone I've ever seen before and by the time I'm done, concealer and foundation and blush applied, I know more of her than I ever thought I would.
I appreciate her beauty. I appreciate the unique joy of being her.
Today is a casual day. We're heading out into town for a tour of the city and we don't need to dress up, it isn't called for. Not going anywhere fancy and comfortable shoes are expressely recommended so I bear that in mind when I select out my makeup, both in quanity and extravagance.
I opt for natural, in other words. Really taking to heart the advice that Rachel had given me about makeup only emphasizing the features that are already there and truly bearing that in mind as I let it guide my hand. I don't go heavy on anything when it comes to the foundational layers, but the emphasis points are something else.
Makeup changes over time. Even as an ignorant guy I knew that, noticed it. What was fashionable at one point was less so at others and time periods dictate what girls looked like. That applied to makeup and to fashion and it was circular and all of that but my point is that this time, the time that I was in right now, wasn't like the time that I came from.
But maybe that was better for me.
There was a certain lack of sublety to the makeup of this era. Light on the foundation, the countouring, the blush. Light even on the lipstick, a pale pink will do. Heavy on the parts that I'm most nervous about screwing up, would I have to do them with some amount of subtelty. Eyeliner. Eyeshadow. Mascara.
So with the foundation down I tackle eyes next, sliding in closer to the mirror and opening wide as I pluck up the eyeliner and slowly and carefully trace my line.
I'm concentrating on following it, I swear I am. But I can't help but notice that the shape of her eyes are the same as mine used to be. I can't not notice that her eyes are so big, so blindingly huge that they seem almost like they're too much for the face they're in so it helps that my face is round, full. It helps that her eyes, my eyes, are pale grey. That they might be blue, might be green. Might be a dozen different colors or more and that's why I lose myself in them, trying to puzzle out all the unique flecks that make them so varied, so impossible to pin down.
And trying and managing to trace around the edge of them without stabbing myself or going too thick in the end. Even though thick is in, I keep it to something less than overwhelmingly smokey.
After the eye liner comes the eye shadow, enhancing the darkness and it occurs to me that I both might be doing this entirely wrong, using the wrong tool for the wrong effect, and also that there is something almost patently ridiculous about going through all that effort with concealer to remove the dark circles around your eyes only to add back in different dark circles afterwards.
But manicured ones, I guess. And I guess that makes the difference.
Watched a movie once, wonder if it's even come out yet, but in the movie some charming British bloke, while outlining the pendantic details of his day, mentioned that he spent hours at the salon artfully getting his hair to look like he just tumbled out of bed. Effortlessness takes effort, I guess, and the same can be said for that as for this.
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My Second Chance
A Gender Swap Story
When a man with regrets gets a second chance at life he winds up getting far more than he could have ever imagined. Sent back in time to his first day of college he finds himself back in his old body, with a twist. He’s a girl now, the feminine version of himself, and all his old friends and all his old enemies have designs and ideas on just what he should do with the second chance he’s been given.
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Updated on Dec 31, 2024
by SophiePert
Created on Nov 1, 2022
by SophiePert
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