My make up routine…Or routine lack of make-up…

My entire beauty routine is based on eyeliner and underachievement

(What a metaphor for my life.) 

But it goes deeper then that…

My relationship with make-up is a resentful one. 

I hate being expected to do anything. Especially if that anything is an extensive daily routine of hiding parts of myself and highlighting other parts. 

(The metaphors just keep on-a-comin’)

I don’t know why I feel this way and still wear eyeliner daily…and some days flat iron, wave, and curl my hair. My goal is to keep growing my hair until a flat iron is ridiculous and unnecessary. Thus further freeing myself from any sort of beauty routine bondage.

Lets be real…I still want to be pretty. I want to do as little as possible and be the most striking woman in the room. 
I’m willing to spend time and money on my health…working out, eating/cooking super healthy, using all natural products on my body. But I draw the line at make-up. 

A few years ago I turned 30. It was a particularly difficult time in my life. I was sitting at a desk all day, no exercise, eating whatever frozen or fast food garbage was easiest. My stress levels made things even worse. I weighed more then ever. I looked tired and rough. I was having panic attacks.

These days things are much better. I’m definitely not there yet. My goal is less to get back in shape and more to become consumed with all the things I love doing. Dancing, writing, singing, hooping, doing Pilates, being outside. Loving life so passionately that I find myself right back in my regular compact little frame. Then there won’t be any need to highlight my cheekbones, because they will be right there plain as day. 

This is not about being skinny. It hurts my heart that once upon a time I felt free enough to dance whenever I wanted, in front of anyone I wanted. And I let life beat me up enough to lose touch with that freedom. 

There are wrinkles now where there weren’t before. Aging scares me as much as the next person. I still refuse to wear anymore make-up. That may change…but I hope not. 

This is not a judgement piece on gals who do it up every morning and live that Sephora life. My face and body tell me loud and clear if I’m happy or not. And I want to do whatever I can to cultivate that happiness and wear it all over my face. That and some eyeliner are my current beauty routine. 





Seven Days of No Complaints….

   This was me on Sunday. Lying in a hammock. My life is pretty damn good right now. I have a lot to smile about…and a lot to be grateful for. I’m pretty damn happy. 

   So why was I on the phone today, catching up with an old friend and mostly complaining? Complaining about work, the city, day to day life, my own anxiety. I hung up the phone and thought what the hell was that? 

    Sure, the things I talked about were very real challenges for me. I certainly don’t want to be disingenuous and paint some perfect picture when life is a mixed bag. But why is it so hard to talk about the good things? Why is it so much easier to complain to my friends then it is to talk about how happy I am? 

   The Farida I like best is the one who sings, skips, and dances all day. She’s sunny and funny. That Farida has been around a lot more lately. Which means despite the many challenges and things to figure out in my life, I’m pretty damn good. 

     Last week on Instagram I saw this post: 

   Seven days of no complaining seemed like a good idea to me. So I tried it. And failed miserably. 

   I’ve decided that I’m going to try again starting tomorrow. For three days I’m not going to complain at all. My goal is to catch the complaints when they’re still just bitchy, whiny little thoughts floating around in my head. 

So I’m off to an early bed…I figure getting some extra sleeps will make day one much easier.



*Gala Darling is an author and blogger who focuses on female empowerment.

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