I’ve been told that I have one face.
At a recent charity event a queen said I stole her ‘face’. Gnurl, which part of your face did I steal? We look like any other queen on the planet who uses the black liner, brown socket, highlight, lowlight, shadowed cheeks-temples-forehead drag make-up 101 technique. Your ‘face’ is not original – neither is mine. Someone started the ‘face’ – it certainly ain’t you sista. So you should stop alleging that others are stealing your face. Get it patented and then we can talk about ‘stealing’.
I would like to think that her comment was in jest. But I was affected nevertheless. I’ve had my face for as long as I can remember. It is my identity. In all honesty, I’m very scared of experimenting with my face. Not that I’ve not tried. I did. But I always came back to what I know. I’m envious of queens who are chameleons when it comes to doing faces. Alas, I’m not one of them.
In the middle of 2013, when I was away on a sabbatical – yes, I’m intelligent too – I was contemplating on making myself more ‘contemporary’, whatever that means. One of the considerations was to change this face. I was missing/away long enough from the scene to allow me to come up with something new, something refreshing. A friend suggested that I should come up with a story like ‘a dingo ate my face’ to complement this face-changing plan. This didn’t materialise. The only change that actually happened was my mid-section and that I had to get a new corset for it.
I’ve recently hit the big 40 – and I’m liking what I see in the mirror after 2 hours of plastering all the products on my face. It’s a familiar face. It has aged. Still pretty. But slightly wrinkled than it first started. I think I’m finally comfortable in my own face. So, regardless of what others say, I’ll keep this face.
Come to think of it, I do have variations of this one face.
the not-so-drama diaries 