Daring To Go Bare

I live in Florida. Florida summers are hot and humid and gross. As a teenager, I was very self-conscious of my complexion. I had...problematic skin. It was oily but also dry, and impossible to prevent from being shiny and splotchy. I broke out a lot. My solution for a while was to cover it with foundation. A LOT of foundation. Concealer became a crutch - for a very long time I absolutely couldn't conceive of leaving the house without a layer of makeup. Over the years my skin has improved some, but I'm resigned to being one of those adults who still breaks out. It's just a fact of my life. Luckily, I am so far not afflicted with wrinkles. The power of relatively clean living, I am an example of (so far). But here's the thing: This year I turned 35. And thus began my glorious period of embracing the lifestyle choice that is Gives No Fucks. I am officially THIRTYSOMETHING. I am not a winsome girl, I am not a young woman - I am a grown-ass adult. And bad skin be damned. I've begun to put down the foundation and forgo the blush, choosing instead to face the world bare-faced in all my shiny, spotty glory. This is what I look like, so I might as well get used to it.

Me, with very, very minimal makeup.