Make-Up, Horses, and Bright Red Hair

When I was younger, I would get into my grandma’s make-up drawer. I’d cover my face with her way-to-dark foundation because back then I thought it was meant to make you tanner. I’d then cover my cheeks with bright pink blush until I looked like a piece of bubble gum. My lips and teeth would be a dark brown, and my eyelids would be electric blue. By god, did I feel beautiful. My grandma would laugh at me and take pictures of me with her pink motorola  flip phone while I strutted my stuff all through the house. Later she’d scrub my face raw and hold me in the recliner while I cried myself to sleep. I didn’t want the make-up to come off.

I used to be a pageant queen back then. I won every single one I was in. I can only really remember the last one though. My aunt did my hair for it, and I hated it. I threw a tantrum over my hair, and I just knew I wasn’t going to win. I placed third, and little me was not okay with being third. The newspaper had a picture of first, second, and me, and my hair wasn’t the mess. Mascara was running down my face in streams. Mama said I threw my trophy out the car window. I was never in another pageant. I was okay with it. In my head, if I didn’t win, then that must mean I wasn’t beautiful anymore.

Pageants were out, Capri pants and horses were in. My uncle was a cowboy, and he tended to a rich man’s horses. I’d go to the barn all the time and ride them, feed them, and sometimes just talked to them because my uncle said they liked that. One day I got a Shetland pony named Sparkle, and my brother tried to help me train it. One day Sparkle bucked me off, and I cried like I was dying. I never rode another horse. I wasn’t strong enough.

I lost confidence in myself. I gained a lot of weight, started getting depressed, and spent a lot of time alone. I was smart, but that was about it. I wasn’t pretty. I wasn’t strong. I was just a nerd.

Then Junior High came around, and I started wearing make-up again, maybe to much eyeliner, but my foundation almost matched my face. I lost a lot of weight, but I was also doing some really stupid things. I got diagnosed with depression. I died my hair a bright red, I wore all black, listened to screamo metal, and wrote poetry about death,but hey, I was cool and pretty now.

I hung out with the wrong crowd for a while, but I learned a lot about myself through those years. You’re going to change a lot over the course of life. We go through phases, and spend so much time trying to figure out who we are, but the truth is that we change, every day. Sometimes our failures bring us to a new chapter of our lives, and sometimes those chapter aren’t so well written, but no matter who you are, or what phase of your life you’re in at the moment, you’re strong. You’re beautiful. You’re smart. You’re worth it keep moving, because you’re heading somewhere.