這一年，我素面朝天

常晨

Im low maintenance1）， I always told myself. Im a slick-of-lip-gloss and one coat of mascara kind of girl. But the first day I went to work without makeup I wore sunglasses. In the office.

To be fair， that was mostly because my bleary eye was still secreting a mysterious cloudy liquid. I was recovering from a nasty eye infection and under doctors orders not to put any cosmetics—not even sunscreen2）—near my face. I didnt know then that I was living my first of 365 days total without makeup.

I felt naked at first. I had never worn more than mascara， blush， maybe a bit of eyeshadow for special occasions. But I didnt realize how much those little embellishments protected me. They were my armor in a world where being female feels like a never-ending appraisal3） of beauty.

In the office， my bare face seemed unprofessional. The first time I went to a club， I worried they would turn me away at the door， or at least ask me to apply a layer of lipstick before joining the bronzed， contoured4） girls with feline eyes inside. Out on the streets， pale-faced and dry-lipped， I felt like I was fighting a battle I didnt believe in： That by sidestepping5） makeup I was becoming a poster girl for a rebellion my heart wasnt actually invested in. I was not an anti-cosmetics crusader then. But the experience has turned me into something of a convert now.

That year taught me that makeup may be a shield， but it is not a weapon. It is a transparent cloak6） that everyone but you can see through—all potions have limited power. You look the way you do， and you can either accept it now and get on with your life or you can continue painting your face in the vain hopes that one day Angelina Jolie will gaze back at you from the mirror. She wont.

Wearing mascara never hid what I looked like from others. No nightclub turned me away. Men did not recoil7） at the sight of unpainted lashes. Women didnt make snide8） remarks. People told me I looked nice just as often as they did before， if not a little bit more. After a couple of months， I gave it no more thought， instead enjoying my extra minutes of sleep in the morning and leisurely drinks before going out.

Of course， makeup can function as a confidence booster. I dont deny its ability to hide the sins of late nights and greasy food. When faced with a special occasion—a date， or a presentation at work—a touch of color can be a bolstering shield. But sometimes its empowering to throw away the crutch. Try going makeup free for just one day， and I promise： Precisely nothing will change if you face the world as you really are.

化妝具有魔力，它會對你的面容施展魔法，為你的美麗加分，成為你的保護盾，即使一點淡妝也會令你煥發光彩。這種魔力有時會讓人上癮，成為你的拐杖。如果化妝已成為你的日常，但某種因素迫使你不得不扔掉這根拐杖，你敢嗎？

我很好打理，我總是這樣告訴自己。我這樣的女孩，平時也就淡抹一點唇彩，輕刷一點睫毛膏。但是，素顏上班的第一天，我還是帶了墨鏡——在辦公室里。

說句公道話，這主要是因為我的一只眼睛視線模糊，且仍在分泌一種神秘的濃液。我當時感染了嚴重的眼疾，正在恢復中。醫生叮囑我在臉部附近什么化妝品都不能用——連防曬霜都不行。那個時候我還不知道，接下來的365天我都將素面朝天，而那天是第一天。

一開始，我覺得自己像是赤身裸體。在此之前，除了涂點睫毛膏、腮紅，特殊場合可能再加上一抹眼影之外，我沒有其他的化妝了。但當時的我并沒有意識到，這些微不足道的裝扮對我的保護作用如此大。身為女性，總覺得別人對自己美貌的評判永無止境，在這樣的一個世界里，這些裝扮簡直就是我的鎧甲。

在辦公室里，我那不施粉黛的臉顯得不夠職業。第一次素顏去酒吧時，我擔心門衛會把我拒之門外，或者至少讓我涂個唇膏，才允許我加入酒吧里那群皮膚曬成褐色、身材凹凸有致、眼神嫵媚的女孩之列。走在大街上，臉色蒼白、嘴唇干燥的我感覺自己像是在打一場自覺沒底氣的戰役：因為棄化妝品于不顧，我成了一名海報女郎，為自己并未投入精力于其中的反抗行為做宣傳。我當時并不是一個反化妝品的斗士。但是這段經歷卻在某種程度上改變了我。

那年的經歷告訴我：化妝品或許是盾牌，但絕非武器。化妝品就是一件透明的斗篷，所有人都能看穿，唯獨你不能——所有化妝品的作用都是有限的。你就是這個模樣。你要么接受自己的樣子，繼續生活，要么繼續在臉上涂涂抹抹，妄圖有一天在鏡子里回望著你的會是安吉麗娜·朱莉。而那是不可能的。

刷上睫毛膏根本掩蓋不了我在別人眼中的樣子。夜總會沒把我拒之門外。男人們沒有一看到我沒刷睫毛膏就畏避退縮。女人們也沒有對我指指點點。人們常常告訴我說我看起來很不錯，就像以前一樣，很可能說得比之前還頻繁。幾個月之后，我就不想這件事了，取而代之的是一種享受——早晨能多睡幾分鐘，出門之前能悠閑地喝兩杯。

當然，化妝品有增強信心的作用。我不否認，使用化妝品可以掩蓋熬夜和吃油膩食物這樣的“罪過”。在特殊場合，如約會或工作中做演講時，一抹色彩能成為保護你的盾牌。但是，有時候，甩掉拐杖會讓你信心大增。試一下不化妝的樣子，就一天時間，我向你保證：以你本來的面貌面對這個世界，真的不會有任何改變。

1. maintenance [?me?nt?n?ns] n. 保養；養護（保持道路、機器設備等狀態良好的工作）

2. sunscreen [?s?n?skri?n] n. 防曬霜

3. appraisal [??pre?z（?）l] n. 評價

4. contoured [?k?nt??（r）d] adj. 輪廓鮮明的；線條優美的

5. sidestep [?sa?d?step] vt. 回避

6. cloak [kl??k] n. 斗篷；遮掩物

7. recoil [r??k??l] vi. （因為厭惡而）退避

8. snide [sna?d] adj. （尤指話語）惡意的，挖苦的