When I do your makeup, my hands extend freely, unburdened by reflection. I see you as you are. No reversal, no hesitation—just movement, connection.
When you do mine, I surrender to your touch, trusting your vision of me more than my own.
But when I do my own makeup, everything shifts. A mirror divides me, flipping reality, forcing my hands to move in reverse. I reach for myself, but I am both subject and artist, always slightly out of sync.
And when you do yours, you face the same challenge—seeing yourself only through reflection, adjusting, compensating, never quite able to touch yourself as I could.
We can never do our own makeup the way another can. I need you to see me fully. You need me to do the same. But in the end, I must learn to see myself, and you must learn to see yourself.
I need you. You need me. I need me. You need you.
2 out of 4 Photos: Imagine Images Photo; other 2 hilariously edited.