The mask I stopped wearing

Seven years ago, most workdays started with 20 minutes in front of the mirror applying makeup.

War paint, I called it.

Foundation on my skin to mask my skin flushing repeatedly over a day of meetings.

Concealer for the undereye bags, a mix of not enough sleep and too many early mornings.

Eyebrow pencil to frame my face and punch up my expressiveness.

Bronzer and highlighter for a finished, polished look.

It was all a mask.

One I felt I needed to survive that business environment: to feel more confident, to meet social expectations, to fly under the radar, to look the part, to hide my insecurities and stress signals.

We all have masks we choose to wear.