My Poor Pores

This weekend I discovered a product that every other female of this world discovered at the age of eleven or twelve. Make-up.

As a rule I don’t wear make-up. (Unless chapstick counts?) I’m not opposed to a little bit of mascara now and then for REALLY special occasions but it has to be important and I have to have at least twenty minutes to apply it to each eye. In Massachusetts if I ever venture into the mysterious world of eye shadow, or god forbid eye liner, my sister and father ridicule me to no end. Justly.

On Friday my sister, Manal, popped her head into my room and said we were going to the village and then, if I wanted to come, to her friends wedding. In our village there are maybe five, maybe six twenty-year old cousins that we visit each week. As well as numerous aunts, grandmas, and children that float in and out of the picture and offer you food. Sometimes this food includes homemade fresh honeyed doughnuts. Sometimes, I’m really happy. (They were so good I had to include them somewhere!)

Manal had told me to bring the fanciest dress I had with me and change at the cousins house. I assumed this meant switching my skirt for the dress and dabbing on some lip gloss. Little did I know.

I stepped back into the cousins room after I’d changed and then they handed me a palette of pink sparkly eye shadow. Holding it felt like I was holding an alien species, and it might bite any second. I gingerly stared at it for about forty-five seconds before they noticed my expression of utter helplessness. “You no do make-up?”

“Nooooooooo. Er. Laaaaaa.” (No in Arabic is La)

“Really?” I shrugged helplessly. “Okay, we do for you.” And my cousin snatched back the sparkly pink alien powder and started to prepare. First off I had to kneel because all of my grown up cousins come up to my shoulder. And then I closed my eyes.

That was the last time for about seven hours I felt like I wasn’t wearing a mask. When I finally opened my eyes I was unrecognizable. I don’t think I’ve ever worn that much make-up, and that includes the time I went as a yeti for Halloween and painted my face blue.

Standing in my cousins humble room surrounded by cousins wearing house dresses. I felt like a peacock among pigeons. (Or an American in Oman.) My eyeliner game was intense. It was too much, I was sure. I would stick out like a sore thumb.. But there wasn’t time for me to rub it off, nor would that be polite to all my cousins hard work so we waved good bye to our cousins and Manal and I headed off to my first wedding.

As soon as we walked into the ballroom all my fears were put to rest. I’d walked into a sea of foundation and pencilled eyebrows and lip liner. If anything I wasn’t wearing enough.

It took forty-five minutes and a long, soapy shower to get all the foreign substances off my face, but I would do it again in an heartbeat.

(Sorry I couldn’t post pictures of other women at the wedding, because they were uncovered only the proffesional photographer took pictures.)