Just days before Mother’s Day, I woke up to find my eye was puffy and leaking. I brushed it off as a typical mom moment, convinced it wasn’t pinkeye. However, two days later, a small, tender bump appeared on my upper eyelid. After a bit of self-diagnosing and plenty of Googling, I came to learn I had developed a chalazion—a pesky issue caused by blocked glands in my eyelid that trap oils. As it swelled, it resembled a blemish I desperately wanted to pop, even though the internet warned against it. My ophthalmologist confirmed I needed to apply warm compresses five times a day, wash my eyelids with baby shampoo twice daily, and most importantly, absolutely refrain from wearing makeup around my eye.
Now, I understand there are far bigger issues in the world, but the thought of going makeup-free with a glaring red bump on my eyelid heightened my anxiety. While there are many things I genuinely don’t care about, for some reason, not wearing makeup when I had such a visible blemish was not one of them. Yet, it was clear that self-care was in order, which meant adhering to the doctor’s advice, regardless of how challenging it seemed.
I’m not a heavy makeup user, but giving up concealer, mascara, and the occasional eyeliner was tough. I found it pointless to add blush to my cheeks when my eyes were clearly bare and adorned with a glaring red mark. I simplified my routine to just moisturizer and sunscreen, donned my sunglasses indoors and outdoors like a diva, and tried to hide behind my side bangs.
However, maintaining that facade was short-lived. I wish I could say I was unfazed by my friends’ surprised reactions or my kids’ mixture of curiosity and disgust. I wish I could claim that the unsightly bump didn’t bother me because I’m in my 40s and “IDGAF.” But the reality was quite different.
Going without makeup made me anxious. Everything was on display, including the annoying chalazion. My under-eye bags and lackluster skin were fully visible. I couldn’t mask a poor night’s sleep or the mental load I was carrying with my trusty concealer. The truth was laid bare for all to see—myself included—and maybe it was finally time to confront it.
Makeup can be a source of empowerment, instilling confidence and making us feel beautiful. It can transform us from everyday moms into glamorous women, or simply lift our spirits when we need it most. However, for me, it had increasingly become a means of hiding my true feelings. If I could cover the dark circles and add some color to my cheeks, I could pretend my exhaustion and worries didn’t exist. I had been faking it, pushing my anxiety under layers of blush, eyeliner, concealer, and eyeshadow.
Yet, nothing brought me down more than that darn chalazion. Over the next six weeks, I found myself spending hours applying a warm compress to my eye while listening to podcasts. I also spent a lot of time staring at my unadorned face in the bathroom mirror. Eventually, I grew accustomed to my natural look, freckles and all. I noticed that my skin improved when I slept well or remembered to take my iron supplements.
In the mornings, as I gazed at my unmade face, I began to embrace the idea of “what you see is what you get.” Some days, I saw a refreshed, rosy-cheeked version of myself. Other days, I was a woman in dire need of a retreat to a quiet hotel room with a few green smoothies (or mimosas, you know, whatever). I learned to slow down during those tougher days, recognizing my sadness, frustration, stress, or fatigue. Paying attention to my own needs became habitual.
After nearly two months, the chalazion showed no signs of retreating. Joy! The ophthalmologist drained it, leaving behind a small scar. With the green light to wear makeup again, I found something surprising—I was okay without it. I felt liberated simply being myself, regardless of my appearance. I’m not saying I’ll never indulge in makeup again; it’s too much fun to give up entirely. But for now, I’m relishing my bare face. It feels empowering, and for once, I’m genuinely comfortable in my own skin.
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In summary, my experience going without makeup taught me valuable lessons about self-acceptance and care. Embracing my natural face allowed me to confront my feelings in a way I hadn’t before. Makeup may have been a comfort, but stepping away from it helped me find empowerment in authenticity.