It may come as something of a shock from someone who wears skirts a majority of the time, but I'm really not all that girly. I can't really do my hair. My makeup routine takes about a minute and a half in the morning. Said "makeup" is mostly baby powder (yes, 'cause I'm that pale). I haven't had my nails done professionally since my senior prom. The last time I did my own nails is coming up on 2 years ago, and that was for my grandmother's funeral.
So now here I am, 35 years old with no hair or makeup skills (aside from stage hair and makeup, and even that was a long time ago), and I'm getting married in a couple months. I'm now having to make appointments for these things, and when people ask me what I want to do, I don't even know the right words to use.
Most people have never asked, but there are reasons why I don't do much with my makeup or my hair. One of them is because of the time and money you save by not doing much with either. (The afore-mentioned baby powder? 99 cents for a 3 month supply of makeup.) But I think actually a big part of it is because I was in theatre at such a young age.
Aside from the Christmas pageants and small scale elementary school plays that everyone does, I began my work on the stage at the age of 8. I was in the Atlanta Ballet's Nutcracker. As you might imagine from a major dance company, things were very professional. Even the youngest children (8 was the minimum age) and their parents had many of the same responsibilities as the adult professional dancers. Our call was an hour before curtain. We wore heavy pancake makeup. Our hair had to be solid as a rock. On top of that, we were expected to remove our makeup before leaving the theatre and we were not allowed to leave in only our leotards and tights. We had to either change completely, or wear street clothes over them. Heaven help you if someone caught you trying to leave the building wearing your dance shoes. (I still cringe when I see kids out in stores or restaurants wearing just their leotard and ballet or tap shoes.)
We were expected to be professional. Not only did that mean that we were expected to be there on time or either call our understudy and the children's director if we were sick, but that also meant our behavior in and out of the theatre. There was a very strong delineation between performance/character and your normal self. It was drilled into us our characters did not leave the building. Every trace of your makeup and hair (unless you had one of the hairdos that took 2 hours to undo) should be gone before you leave - because a professional does not leave the theatre in costume.
(Granted, many years later, I joined a community theatre where it was common practice to greet the audience as they left in costume and makeup. But you could argue that that was an extension of the performance and the character.)
Fast forward a few years.
When I went to high school, my mom decided that I was old enough to wear makeup. We bought foundation, eye makeup, and lipstick. It wasn't long before I decided I didn't like it. It felt heavy, and somehow both greasy and dry on my skin. The eye makeup usually itched. Plus I think by that point, having been in the Nutcracker 4 years, and in drama club all through middle school, something about wearing "that much" makeup (I say it in quotes, because in the grand scheme of things, it wasn't a lot) just out and about on a day to day basis didn't feel right.
I don't remember when I stopped wearing foundation and eye makeup on a daily basis. I don't remember when I started wearing just powder (translucent cosmetic powder, at first), a little blush, and lipstick as my daily makeup. I do remember, vaguely, either in college, or just shortly thereafter, when I was dirt poor, and realized that $5 for a compact of translucent powder that lasted a few weeks was nowhere near as good a deal as a travel bottle of baby powder. I did go in for eye makeup for parties, but you could almost argue that that was a character/persona thing.
Then there's hair. Even at the height of my theatrical ability, when I was more capable of doing things with my hair, I didn't. My hair is very fine and it takes a lot to keep it in place. Even a little hair spray brings me flash backs of the absurd amounts of Dippity-Do (a 1980's hair gel that was something like clear Elmer's glue in radioactive green) that lived in my hair for most of the month of December for 4 years of my childhood. They say there are light, fragrance-free hair sprays out there. But in my (admittedly limited) experience, just like with sunscreen, even the stuff that is supposed to be "light and fragrance free" is still heavy and smells like what it is, in my opinion. Plus, there again, if I have stuff in my hair, I feel like it should be because I'm on stage with a period-accurate 1820's chignon.
So what's a non-girly, bride-to-be to do? I actually felt a lot better about it yesterday after meeting with a hair-stylist to try out some stuff on my hair. In her simple ponytail, she confessed that she doesn't do much with her own hair anymore, either - it's time she could be spending on other things. Plus she agreed with me that at your wedding, you want to look like yourself - the prettiest, best version of yourself, but still recognizably you, and not a Character.
What does this have to do about writing? Well, not a lot, really. But it does kind of give you a glimpse into my mind as to where Character begins and ends.