Brutal Honesty

I was getting ready for church yesterday, and it being Easter and all, I was trying extra hard to look nice. I’ve gone round and round in my head trying to figure out why exactly this is, and I could give you all the usual answers I give myself, but none of them make sense so I’m not going to get into it. Let’s just say I wanted to look good and leave it at that.


If you know me, or have known me for any amount of time, you will know that I don’t usually wear makeup. I probably should, but I still haven’t come to the conclusion it matters all that much in the grand scheme of things, so I don’t. To be honest, the processes of putting it on and taking it off seem to be more work than the effect is worth so it’s just easier to not wear it at all. Then there’s no shock when people see me early in the morning or late at night because I always look the same. It’s perfect. And when I do wear makeup, I look that much better. This system works well for me so I’m sticking with it.

But back to yesterday. I had just finished putting on my makeup (including eye shadow and eye liner, which almost NEVER happens) and when I felt it was complete, I turned to Max and said, “How do I look?” I have learned over the years that if I want true and brutal honesty, I should ask Max, but I didn’t think that part through before asking. He looked me over and said, “You look good. Except here,” and he used his index finger to motion to the area under his eye.

Before I could defend myself, my God-given dark circles, and the fact that I had already applied concealer to them, he said, “You look like you’re trying to be one of those Goth teenagers. You really should cover up the dark part under your eyes.”

“Thanks, Max.”

While I'm sure there are several lessons to be learned here, I took away two.  First, don't ask if you don't really want to know the truth.  Second, you've got to have a real sense of security as a person to be the parent of a kid like Max. 

I'm still learning...