Yesterday, I put foundation on my three-year-old. Someone please kill me.
In my defense, it was for my daughter’s mini-dress-rehearsal and dance class photos. When I received the e-mail from the dance studio specifying foundation, blush, lipstick, and eye shadow, it felt weird but OK. After all, I danced in those things from toddler through teenage years. I remember the makeup fondly. I felt grown-up and pretty, and even though my mom was probably wrestling with me to sit still and stop blinking and wiggling, all I remember is that it was fun to feel grown up and have a special day.
But then it came time to actually put this stuff on my kid. Whoa.
First of all, her skin is about 4 shades darker than mine, the lucky little olive-skinned beauty. My foundations were all chalky on her. But really, am I expected to buy a three-year-old her OWN foundation?! I think not. So I went with a tinted moisturizer that was more forgiving. I mean, please, her skin is perfect. She does, however, have the dark circles she inherited from both sides of the family. So I pulled out some concealer. I concealed my daughter’s dark circles. I felt dirty.
Blush was easy enough. My pink looked cute on her. Eye shadow time. They specified tan on the lids and brown in the crease, exactly what I do to my own eyes every single day. I kept making her open her eyes, and then kept putting on more brown. I could feel myself coming a bit unhinged. Why do I think my daughter’s eyes need to look smokier and more cat-like? What is happening to my brain? Once I was done the eye shadow, I thought her eyes looked unfinished. So I did it. I put eyeliner on a three-year-old. If you have never tried to do this, it’s not so different from putting eyeliner on yourself... in the car... while driving off-road... and holding a feral cat. But it eventually happened.
Then some lipstick and we were done. I blotted for her, because I didn’t think I could handle teaching my preschooler how to blot lipstick. She left a perfect pink kiss on the toilet paper. Seriously. Kill me.
I haven’t watched that Toddlers & Tiaras show. I’ve heard about it, but I’ve never seen it. I know that a little bit of makeup for a dance recital is not what’s going on on that show. My kid doesn’t have extensions in her hair, or fake teeth, or spray tan, or whatever other goofiness they do to those poor kids. But I’m on the slippery slope. Concealer. On a three-year-old. Sigh. So wrong. Even more wrong is how completely adorable and perfect she looked with smoky cat eyes.