On makeup

As a child, after a long bath I would stand on the edge of the tub while my father wiped down my face with a cloth. He would then bunch the washcloth over his index finger and draw it over my eyebrows and my lips and dust it on my cheeks, telling me that he's putting makeup on my face to make me all pretty.

Growing up I missed out on those teenage years when girls are allowed to look absurd whilst experimenting with makeup. Later I tried to catch up on these skills but it never felt like me.

Thinking back the washcloth is probably still my favourite kind of getting pretty.