And this is why I should stay on top of my shit, so it doesn’t back up and get forgotten. Oy.
Random FOTDs from like two months ago below the cut.
(By the way, if you like steampunk and/or clockpunk, and you haven’t yet read Paul J. McAuley’s Pasquale’s Angel, you need to get on that!)
Can we just acknowledge that my eye shapes are TERRIBLE, and just take it as read from now on? Because they are never symmetrical, no matter how hard I try. I think, at this point, with all the practicing and detail-oriented, patient work, and removing and trying again, I’ve done, I can honestly lay almost all of the blame on the fact that my *eyes* aren’t symmetrical. For some reason, that feels like a personal failure, even though it’s just genetics and shit. That one eyebrow that seems perpetually raised over the other one (that would be the left one; slightly higher and more arched than the right – but since the photos are mirrored, it’s on YOUR right)? Nope, it’s just like that when it’s relaxed. It’s higher than the other one, and that’s that. And to pluck it down to the other one’s height would just….need a ridiculous amount of plucking, and it would look comical and somehow alien to my face, after seeing it like this for 33 years. (Remind me to scan in pictures of my eyebrows from high school. HOLY SHIT, what was I thinking? And all the girls on my hall thought I had great eyebrows – they were cosigning that shit! WTF. Oh, the 90s.) And then one eye has one teensy wrinkle in the crease, and the other eye has TWO (the left one, again, yeesh, that eye needs to get it together). They’re teensy, and I don’t care about wrinkles – but one on one side, and TWO on the other? Really?! Not even trying to help me out. I think my orbital and/or brow bones are off, too, because no matter what I do, when the depth of the crease matches on both sides, one side has less room for brow highlight than the other. And if the “brow highlight room” matches, one crease is practically nonexistent. But you know what: I DO NOT GIVE A FUCK. I’ve made my peace with it. Or, rather, I’m declaring NOW that I’m making my peace with it. I’m also making peace with my babystache. What. We’ve all seen it. I’m just owning up to it. I thought for a while it was just an unfortunate effect of foundation making it appear to be there when really it wasn’t. And foundation/powder might emphasize it, or call attention to it – but let’s be real: it’s there for real. Sometimes I remove it, mostly I don’t. There it is. Wait til I’m 50, wait til you see what I’m rocking on my upper lip then. (I’m actually not that hairy, really, but I’m fervently hoping that I have a good ladystache when I’m 50. Like, something unmistakeable. Otherwise, it’ll be a letdown. Like when I quit shaving as a women’s studies major – or, as I spelled it at the time, wimmin’s studies major – only no one noticed because my legs are not that hairy at all. SUCH a disappointment. I just looked like it’d been two or three days since I shaved, not like I was making a political statement, WHICH I WAS. WASTED non-shaving feminist legspace, I tell you.) ANYHOODLE. Moving on.