Your Makeup Is Terrible Because You're Drunk AF

Jesse Morrow

Greetings, kittens! I have a very, very, VERY, important weekend PSA.

It's a little harsh and uncharacteristically bitchy for me, but I think it's time that all of us girl creatures woke up to the blazing reality that we've been desperately running away from our entire adult (and teen) lives.

So here it goes...

Your makeup is TERRIBLE! At least when you're drinking, because I've learned the hard way that makeup and booze don't mix.

I'm saying this to you as much as I'm saying this to myself. We need to become awake to the hard fact that we're essentially walking around the city looking like botched clowns (and it's not exactly the best time to be looking like a clown, if you know what I mean).

Just yesterday, a friend of mine sent me the video above of the mega famous Drag Queen Alaska Thunderfuck.

As soon as my frail, vulnerable ears heard Ms. Thunderfuck belt out "Your makeup is terrible!" my heart skipped a beat.

Because I've been secretly fearing that my makeup is terrible for a long time.

And then, right after I was triggered by the "Your Makeup Is Terrible" song, right as I was having extreme makeup shame spirals at my work desk, my best friend Owen sent me this picture from the night before:

Owen Gould

And BAM. All of my fears were instantly confirmed.

My eyeliner is so over-winged that I look like a gothic teen experimenting with liquid eyeliner for the first time in her life. My lipstick is smeared (and I'm no Courtney Love, so I can't pull off "smeared lipstick chic." Only rock chicks can do that.)

I just look like an alcoholic soccer mom enjoying herself a little *too* intensely at her gated community's Holiday party.

And pretty quickly, I realized what the trouble was (and is for my fellow makeup-loving sisters).

See, I wear full coverage foundation every single day of my life. I wear a high-intensity, shimmery, creamy highlighter that I tap onto the tops of my cheekbones and down the bridge of my nose so I can emulate that healthy vegan glow without having to be vegan. (I would be a vegan but I can't afford that life right now.)

I also contour the fuck out of my cheeks in attempts to hollow out my moon face (my mother always said I had a moon face).

I wear such dramatic coats of mascara that I have to buy a new, fresh tube every other week. People think I have crazy eyelashes, but little do they know it's a result of at least 10, probably 20, coats of the heaviest mascara to ever grace the mascara market.

I'm one of the few millennials that wears lip-liner, too. I don't do subtle modern lip-liner either — I do a shameless, dark, '90s lip-liner. (PSA: Girls, if you're not wearing lip-liner, you need to reassess your life. Lip-liner is a game changer. It's the poor girl's collagen injection.)

Oh and don't even get me started on my eyebrows. One time, I got cyber-bullied more intensely than I've ever been cyber-bulled because of a photo of myself that I included in an article (see below).

What? I like my eyebrows like I like my women: Intense, dark and precise.

Now, I'm not embarrassed by my love of makeup. I never really cared about being a natural. I only ever cared about being hot.

I like my eyebrows like I like my women: Intense, dark and precise.

The trouble is, I (like you) also like to drink. I like to ~party~ from time to time.

And the more I drink, the more I'm filled with the irrepressible need to, you know, powder my nose. Not in the druggie way, I actually like to actually powder my nose. With Chanel pressed powder.

I swear people probably do think I have a drug problem because I'm always jetting off to the bathroom with a massive purse in tow, and I hang out in there for a suspicious 10 minutes.

MORE mascara. MORE blush. MORE lipstick. MORE, MORE, MORE.

If the lighting is really dark — as it usually is in the swanky nightlife joints I like to frequent — I'll really go to town.

I'll strut back into the bar looking like a Texas pageant girl on acid, but think I look really fabulous.

I'll strut back into the bar looking like a Texas pageant girl on acid, but think I look really fabulous.

And I'll talk to everyone, batting my lashes, acting like I'm the hottest shit in the world. Meanwhile, I have lipstick on my forehead, my blush is five shades too dark and not at all blended and I have black eyeliner smeared across my cheeks.

It's a real mess.

But the worst part is, I'll be entirely unaware that I'm a total mess, and I'll look down at other girls who are doing the same exact thing.

"Oh, poor thing, she doesn't know how to do her makeup. Too bad she doesn't have a real friend, like me, to tell her that she went a little hog wild with the liquid liner," I'll smugly think to myself, feeling wildly superior.

I'll even contemplate telling her to tone it down. But I'll lose my nerve (I always lose my nerve). And I'll probably subconsciously react in a bitchy way, because looking at the girl with the smeared lipstick is like looking into a mirror.

And I don't like what I see.

Looking at the girl with the smeared lipstick is like looking into a mirror. And I don't like what I see.

And then, the next day, I'll look at pictures from the previous night, and I'll be overcome with serious shame-shudders.

So what's the solution? What do us girls with our terrible makeup — which is probably the reason we haven't been laid in months — do?

I'll tell you, girl. We need to start going out without our makeup to go bags.

GASP, I know. I get an anxiety attack whenever I'm two feet away from my beloved makeup bag.

However, we makeup loving girls are not to be trusted. Just like I can't be trusted with my sex-drive, I can't be trusted with my makeup around booze.

So, leave the makeup bag at home. Yes, yes, yes, your lipstick will wear off. Yes, you will have bare lips. BUT that's so much better than having smeared lipstick all across your face!

And maybe once we've weaned ourselves off of our addiction to drunken makeup touches, we can be trusted to bring a little lipstick with us. But we must go cold turkey first.

Otherwise, what are we going to do? Have a lifetime of photos of ourselves in which we look like deplorable, overly-made-up crazy, deranged hot messes? Pictures we will want to shield from our precious grandchildren years down the line and delete off social media forever?

We're living in the golden age of the nightlife photo, baby. And we will not be able to actively participate in the golden age of the nightlife photo if we continue to bring our makeup bags out with us and touch up all night long because all of our pictures will be so ratchet.

And we're beauty junkies! We can't be trusted around a silky bottle of $50 foundation. It's like a heroin addict keeping just a tiny bit of heroin in their bag, but you know, they aren't "going to take it."

That wouldn't happen. Having that pretty designer bottle of makeup tucked in the folds of our purse, and not using it is just as unlikely.

So leave the bag at home tonight, girl.

And if you're tempted to bring it, I want you to close your already heavily made-up eyes and imagine me: I'm floating in the air like your lesbian angel big sister coming down from the high, lesbian heavens to deliver you a vitally important message.

"Leave your makeup bag at home," I whisper to you, my shimmery eyes gleaming in the fluorescent light of your studio apartment.

You gaze up at me. I'm wearing cheap, sparkly fairy wings, the kind that you can buy at Target or CVS around Halloween.

My body is adorned in a white slip dress (very '90s lingerie chic). I'm clearly wearing makeup, but my lipstick is starting to wear off. It doesn't look as bad as you would expect.

In fact, I look better than I did the last time you saw me, at 2am with lipstick all over my face.

So leave the makeup bag at home tonight, girl.

"I can do this," you think to yourself. I give you one last wink and I'm gone — back into lesbian big sister heaven ready to go to the next hot mess makeup junkie girl's house to rescue her.

It's not easy being a lesbian big sister to the masses, baby, but someone has to do it.

Message me if you need extra encouragement to leave the makeup bag at home tonight. We're in this life together, you and I. And so long as we stay in touch, everything will be totally FINE.