Putting on makeup is my favorite part of my usual non-recovery morning routine. I believe that’s because it’s the most creative part of my getting-ready process, the most painterly. I get to play with colors and feel the stroke of brushes. I get to draw and paint on skin the way I draw and paint on paper (or canvas, wooden board, etc). Flossing my teeth and brewing coffee just don’t have the same artistic pep and zing.
When I was at Memorial Sloan Kettering back in 2014 (I had a different surgery, completely unrelated to BRCA, and am just fine now), I participated in the Look Good, Feel Better program. Afterwards, I may have appeared to others as if I was hobbling back to my room while clinging to my portable IV and the arm of a good friend, but I felt a little bit more like I was gliding, a little more vibrant and lovely and lively. It had little to do with how others perceived me; it had simply to do with how I felt: altered, but in a way I had chosen, a way that encouraged and reminded me that a day would come when I’d leave the hospital and get back to my everyday life.
Although I’ll be staying in today, I’ve received some tough news about my reconstruction process. Due to some minor complications with how my body is healing, the process will be delayed: for how long, the doctors can’t tell me. We’re all hoping it won’t mean more surgery, but there’s no saying for sure. Unrelated to this (I think), I’ve had more pain today than usual. I am trying to stay optimistic, so I’m directing my attention towards uplifting endeavors. This morning I made a painting, but it didn’t come out as I’d hoped. So after my shower/bandaging routine, I decided to put on some makeup, in the hopes that it would uplift me. And it has.
P.S. I’m not advocating that makeup is a necessity by any means: going out in public without makeup obviously does not make anyone less beautiful.