My mother used to tell me now and then (usually with an incredulous face and a “Can you believe this shit?” tone of voice) about a woman who’d gone to our church who had never let her husband see her without makeup. Now, as strange as that may sound to those of us who keep our husband’s expectations low (“Honey! You washed the dishes AND did laundry?! It’s okay that you didn’t make dinner/get dressed/clean anything else/the children are feral, I’m impressed.”), this woman had quite literally never gone bare-faced in front of her husband. She got up every morning before he was awake, showered and did her hair and makeup, put on a lovely nightgown, then GOT BACK IN BED and pretended to sleep until he woke up, so she would look movie-fresh and beautiful. Then at night, she feigned sleep and waited for him to fall asleep, then got OUT of bed, and washed off all her makeup. This was in the late 80s. Not 1952, as you might guess.

So I was thinking about this insanity this morning while showering, and either this woman’s husband was oblivious to the point of either legal blindness or coma, or he knew damn well what she was doing and accepted/encouraged The Crazy. Cause that is the textbook definition of The Crazy. What the hell crack was this woman on? What kind of psychosis does that to a woman? Really really. Nuts.

I don’t wear makeup most of the time. When I do, it tends to be a bit of brow powder, mascara, maybe some eyeliner. Occasionally I wear lipstick. It’s not that I don’t know how to apply makeup. I’ve been belly-dancing professionally for over 10 years. I know makeup. I just save the full face o’slap for the stage. Onstage, you’re likely to find me with 25 different products on, and maybe 5 shades of eyeshadow, too. I go crazy. Art magazine/stage production crazy. But everyday? Nope.

The Husband has never shown any indication of giving a crap whether or not I wear makeup. In fact, he often fails to notice altogether that I have it on when I do wear it. Men are not terribly observant creatures by nature. They don’t take hints, don’t notice changes unless they’re jumping up and down in front of them, and don’t see minor details. I can’t help thinking what a huge waste of time and effort all The Crazy was for that woman. If a man can’t see you without your makeup on, or looking like ass cause you just ran 5 miles/weeded the garden/gave birth, and still love you, why the hell are you keeping his ass around? And he had to know. Or was criminally stupid. And if he knew what she was doing, she wasn’t fooling anyone but herself. And that just makes the whole thing tragically sad.