Agoraphobic Adventure Time: Going to a Makeup Counter

Pretty much all social interaction is difficult for me. There are certain types of interaction that make me more nervous than others. Going to the hair stylist is one of the most unnerving to me as I’ve already mentioned several times in this blog. However, it’s an inevitable part of not looking like crap, so I have done it. Something in the same category that I have never done before is have someone else apply my makeup. 

Well, I take that back. Now that I’m thinking of it, when my best friend got married, her and all the bridesmaids went and got our makeup done at a department store but we were all there together. Plus, my best friend was actually good friends with the makeup artist so it didn’t seem that scary. 

Usually, I am so terrified of the makeup girls at department stores and places like that, I avoid the section all together. One of the main reasons I never bought non-drugstore makeup until very recently was because I was afraid to even look at a makeup counter. I was afraid that someone would try to “help”me which would inevitably lead to them finding me lacking and giving me a makeover, and having intense conversation about the tone of my skin or the shape of my face, or a million other things I was not, at that time, emotionally prepared to talk about. 

I have been trying to embrace makeup and skincare lately. I’ve talked about it a lot on here. I’ve done everything I can do alone. Last week I finally had to bite the bullet and go get a professional opinion of what shade of foundation is best for my skin. 

It was terrifying but I am very brave so I persisted. I had already looked online and found the brand and type of foundation I wanted. I also found what I assumed would be my color and I was considering just trying the tester, making my own decision, grabbing the product, and fleeing the makeup section. In fact, I was 100% going to chicken out and do that but a woman who worked there asked me a few times if I needed help and ultimately I had to submit to her desire to assist me. It wasn’t that bad. 

I ended up getting the product I came in for and I had even picked the right shade.  Whether she had helped me or not, I would have ended up with the same result. I’m still glad I did it. Now, if I ever feel like I need to ask for help again, I will not be so afraid. Maybe. 

The woman was very nice. She had a lot of makeup on. She was a really pretty young woman. She looked like the actress Eliza Coupe so much that I wanted to tell her that. She looked so much like her, though, that I’m sure people tell her that all the time. I didn’t mention it. Pretty women are very intimidating to me, even when they are not professionally scrutinizing my looks. This means that I was double scared and I was being double brave. Beauty is not for the faint of heart. 

She told me to take half of my makeup off so we could test the product but I was on my lunch so I took it all off. (I didn’t want to look crazy the rest of the day.) She asked me to say one nice thing about my skin. This threw me. I couldn’t think of one thing good to say about my skin. She said that I had a nice, even tone. Thanks. 

She then applied the makeup to my whole face, since I left her little choice, and she tried to upsell me with a primer and a makeup brush. Unfortunately for her, I have been acummulating and hoarding makeup for several months now and I had already bought the items she suggested. Once again, yay me for doing such thorough research. I was already buying the foundation, plus a blush palette I’d picked out before I got there. She didn’t seem to be on commission, so I didn’t feel bad only buying the things I came in for. 

A few trips around my face with the foundation brush, some small talk about her boyfriend and my husband and our mutual love for makeup and the next thing you know, it was all over and I was in the car on the way back to work, a very,  very brave woman with perfectly matched foundation on her face and nothing else. 

So that’s it. No drama. Probably not the greatest story but the moral is: face your fears. They aren’t that bad. Unless, unlike me, you’re scared of things that are actually dangerous. In that case, maybe don’t face them? I don’t know. I can’t make these decisions for you. 

I’m always scared of makeup counters because I’m afraid the beautiful women will tell me I’m ugly and pelt me with sponges until I cry. In general, I’m afraid of asking all people for help. I never ask for help. If I don’t know what you’re talking about, there is a good chance I will act like I do and then look it up once you leave instead of simply asking you to tell me. 

When I had my gallbladder out, I wouldn’t even ask the nurse to help me to the bathroom. She helped me when I first woke from surgery and wasn’t quite aware of what was going on but even in my sedated state, I watched what she did and I did it myself the rest of my hospital stay. 

That’s right, with freshly stitched abdominal wounds I would sit myself up in bed, bend over and disconnect my massage socks (or whatever they are called) haul myself out of bed, lean over and unplug my iv thing from the wall, and drag it across the room to the bathroom. I did this all because I didn’t want to bother the nurse, whose job it was to help me. I actually got scolded by her for doing everything myself. She reassured me that she didn’t mind helping me. I continued to do it myself anyway, rather than ask her for help. 

I’m not sure why I went off on that little tangent. I just wanted to give you guys a clear picture of the lengths that I will go to in an effort to avoid bothering other people and asking for their help. So the fact that I actually asked a woman to help me, with something so trivial as the right shade of foundation, should prove how seriously I am taking learning to wear makeup correctly. I think that’s why I like YouTube so much. You can get advice without having to ask for it. 

Anyway, that’s it. Face your fears. Match your foundation correctly. Let the nurse help you go to the bathroom. Watch YouTube and read my blog. You can’t go wrong. 

Bye.