这一年，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.

化妆具有魔力，它会对你的面容施展魔法，为你的美丽加分，成为你的保护盾，即使一点淡妆也会令你焕发光彩。这种魔力有时会让人上瘾，成为你的拐杖。如果化妆已成为你的日常，但某种因素迫使你不得不扔掉这根拐杖，你敢吗？

我很好打理，我总是这样告诉自己。我这样的女孩，平时也就淡抹一点唇彩，轻刷一点睫毛膏。但是，素颜上班的第一天，我还是带了墨镜——在办公室里。

说句公道话，这主要是因为我的一只眼睛视线模糊，且仍在分泌一种神秘的浓液。我当时感染了严重的眼疾，正在恢复中。医生叮嘱我在脸部附近什么化妆品都不能用——连防晒霜都不行。那个时候我还不知道，接下来的365天我都将素面朝天，而那天是第一天。

一开始，我觉得自己像是赤身裸体。在此之前，除了涂点睫毛膏、腮红，特殊场合可能再加上一抹眼影之外，我没有其他的化妆了。但当时的我并没有意识到，这些微不足道的装扮对我的保护作用如此大。身为女性，总觉得别人对自己美貌的评判永无止境，在这样的一个世界里，这些装扮简直就是我的铠甲。

在办公室里，我那不施粉黛的脸显得不够职业。第一次素颜去酒吧时，我担心门卫会把我拒之门外，或者至少让我涂个唇膏，才允许我加入酒吧里那群皮肤晒成褐色、身材凹凸有致、眼神妩媚的女孩之列。走在大街上，脸色苍白、嘴唇干燥的我感觉自己像是在打一场自觉没底气的战役：因为弃化妆品于不顾，我成了一名海报女郎，为自己并未投入精力于其中的反抗行为做宣传。我当时并不是一个反化妆品的斗士。但是这段经历却在某种程度上改变了我。

那年的经历告诉我：化妆品或许是盾牌，但绝非武器。化妆品就是一件透明的斗篷，所有人都能看穿，唯独你不能——所有化妆品的作用都是有限的。你就是这个模样。你要么接受自己的样子，继续生活，要么继续在脸上涂涂抹抹，妄图有一天在镜子里回望着你的会是安吉丽娜·朱莉。而那是不可能的。

刷上睫毛膏根本掩盖不了我在别人眼中的样子。夜总会没把我拒之门外。男人们没有一看到我没刷睫毛膏就畏避退缩。女人们也没有对我指指点点。人们常常告诉我说我看起来很不错，就像以前一样，很可能说得比之前还频繁。几个月之后，我就不想这件事了，取而代之的是一种享受——早晨能多睡几分钟，出门之前能悠闲地喝两杯。

当然，化妆品有增强信心的作用。我不否认，使用化妆品可以掩盖熬夜和吃油腻食物这样的“罪过”。在特殊场合，如约会或工作中做演讲时，一抹色彩能成为保护你的盾牌。但是，有时候，甩掉拐杖会让你信心大增。试一下不化妆的样子，就一天时间，我向你保证：以你本来的面貌面对这个世界，真的不会有任何改变。

1. maintenance [?me?nt?n?ns] n. 保养；养护（保持道路、机器设备等状态良好的工作）

2. sunscreen [?s?n?skri?n] n. 防晒霜

3. appraisal [??pre?z（?）l] n. 评价

4. contoured [?k?nt??（r）d] adj. 轮廓鲜明的；线条优美的

5. sidestep [?sa?d?step] vt. 回避

6. cloak [kl??k] n. 斗篷；遮掩物

7. recoil [r??k??l] vi. （因为厌恶而）退避

8. snide [sna?d] adj. （尤指话语）恶意的，挖苦的