smoothing over the cracks

This happened a while back. Was on the bus home when a transvestite plunked him/herself in the seat directly opposite mine. S/he was in a skin-tight black shirt, black shorts, carrying a well-used Crumpler bag. Hair was rebonded China-doll style. S/he took out her make-up bag, which was a grubby cloth bag with Eeyore on it, whipped out her Za Two Way Foundation compact and went through the paces of her whole make up routine. From foundation to eyeliner and mascara - the bus was jerky but s/he had an incredibly steady hand. In between make-up application, s/he kept looking at her reflection in the window, touching her hair, batting her eyelids. Pin up person for femininity.

What was fascinating was this. You would think that people who apply make up in public have to have a certain amount of confidence, because they're essentially telling other people that they put in effort to look good. (Most people aim for the effortlessly gorgeous look). S/he had a certain amount of it, from the way s/he sashays with an air. But from the grubby Eeyore cloth bag, and the constant looking into the window, in the 15 minutes that (s)he was seated there, there were a whole host of other signs screaming insecurity. (S)he must have known that many people were staring, and felt exposed sitting where she was, so she walked to the back to join her friends, drawing more stares in the process.

I felt this mixture of sympathy and, I don't know, sadness? I think it's difficult to be fully secure when you don't feel like your skin resembles anything of who you are. Perhaps the whole routine of putting on makeup in public is part of her metaphorical building up of a face to meet the world with. Stares poke holes through the defence, thus the need for constant touching up, to fill in the gaps between who she is and what she looks like.