I Feel Pretty
This week I had a strange realization—I wear make up a lot more often than I ever thought I would. Let me also say that wearing make up at all is a lot more often than I ever thought I would. But I’m getting ahead of myself…
See, at heart I’m a radio guy. I love being on the radio for a bunch of reasons, but one of my absolute favorites is that nobody can see me work. For years I wore all manner of torn, stained and ill-fitting garments…concert t-shirts, promotional baseball hats, and sweatpants with yards and yards of elastic to keep them snugly on my gelatinous torso. And nobody was the wiser. Heck, for all anybody knew, I could have been in a tuxedo or completely nude (though my lawyer has advised me not to tell that story…something about the sight of my belly having created a “hostile” environment).
But like I said, now I have a webcam chronicling my every extra pound and fashion-forward outfit, so those days are over. Plus, I also have a TV show where people are subjected to my appearance as well as my point of view, and whether or not you agree with my opinion you can’t say that I don’t try to look pretty for you. And part of that is wearing make up. Ladies (and the guy who tried to buy me a soda at the cafeteria yesterday), I don’t know how you do it. It’s like walking around with a thin layer of pudding on your face all day. Wait a minute—that would actually be kind of awesome. Let’s change that to walking around with a thin layer of peanut butter on your face. Wait—that’s still awesome. Suffice it to say it feels weird. Look, I appreciate the effort and my wife looks extra easy on the eyes when she’s all painted up, but it just feels so foreign to such a rugged, masculine guy like myself. But it’s the sacrifice I make for you.
Every afternoon I go down to a special room where these perfectly lovely women apply what seems like gallons of foundation to my face…with an airbrush. Yes, they need to spray paint my face in order to get the proper “coverage.” Then I walk around until it’s time to tape my show, all the while wearing more makeup than any three of my female staffers. Granted, it does even out my skin tone and make me less the excruciatingly white man than I am, but still—I’m wearing frickin’ make up for you people!
So, the next time you’re watching me on TV and you’re thinking about what a uninformed dork I sound like, take a moment to notice my healthy pink glow. And realize that I’m slathered with “Dusty Rose #47” especially for you. You’re welcome…