Another cheeseburger induced crisis
Thoughts like these always hit me halfway through a blunt when I am in the middle of my favorite song. So it's a mood killer. What brought this existential crisis on you may be wondering? Make up, just make up. Wedding make up to be more specific and how other people reacted to it.
The MUA spun me around in the chair and the woman I saw in the mirror was not me. It could have been the hair pulled back in an up-do or the button up shirt we all were wearing to get ready that made this image a stranger. Bright red lipstick and darker eyebrows than I would normally go with were confusing sights and the light ethereal eye shadow scheme didn't fit me. And yet I was bombarded with compliments from old teammates and my parents.
It isn't like I don't dress nice and look like I am a put together adult, my chosen aesthetic is just a little darker than the average midwestern woman's. I like to take my token goth friend role seriously when it comes to dress up events like a rehearsal dinner or birthday dinner down town. It's a tough job, but I am the only one who can pull it off.
This candy apple off the shoulder gown and full glamor make up combo really threw me and the other girls who were accustomed to my black attire for a loop. Was this what I could look like if I abandoned my lack of desire to wear make up or need for chains and black fabric? Would I be more successful in dating if I appeared like a “normal” human? Maybe. But then other aspects of my personality wouldn't make sense and I like to alert potential suiters in advance so they aren't surprised when they find out I find cannibalism fascinating and aim to start collecting oddities when I have my own space.
And that was when everything came crashing down and my happy high had turned into a sad one.
My friends' parents love having me around and I provide plenty of entertainment through funny stories and well timed puns, but this whole unrecognizable make up make me think about whether or not the parents like me because I am a reminder of what their children could have turned out to be. It's like when their kids make them mad for whatever reason they can think “well at least they aren't her.” Being a parent to an angry closet goth is hard I get it. And I know there is no way that this thought of my friends' parents only liking me because I am the representation of what they didn't want their kids to be is absurd, but hey that is paranoia at its finest.