Compared to my friends, I grew up sort of different. My parents raised me to be comfortable in my own skin. I was sort of a hippie back in the day. I went to herbal symposiums, went to Waldorf, and spent the majority of my early childhood days outside camping. One with nature, as they say.

Oh, and I’ve never been to Disneyland. Gasp! Everyone I tell that to stares back at me with this disgusted look on their face as their eyes widen in despair. “What? You’ve been deprived!”

My father was never fond of plastic and other fake things, so you can see why he despised places like Disneyland. While kids were there meeting Mickey Mouse, eating cotton candy, “developing cavities and bad eating habits that would effect them for the rest of their lives,” I was sitting on a rock somewhere in the middle of a tree tunnel in Yosemite.

So with that, maybe you have a little idea of who I am and what I mean when I say I hate makeup! I hate it for all the right reasons. I hate that it makes me feel more secure. I hate that I feel naked without it. I hate that I feel like I look “tired” without it on. I hate that I can’t just wear lip gloss and feel okay.

I wasn’t always like this. I don’t really know when it first happened. Maybe while watching my mom get ready for a date after my parents divorced when I was a child. Why was she putting makeup on now? She never did before!

Or maybe it was in high school when looking “cute” consisted not only of what clothes you had on, but what you had on your face too.

I try not to wear too much makeup. It’s funny because every guy in the entire world I’ve ever spoken to on the subject says “less is better.” If only we could just listen.

Not like I care what they think, but I try really hard to resist the urge to put it on. In a way, it’s a weird sense of security. I blame the media. They ruin everything.

My best friend is the most beautiful girl I know. Yet, she will not leave the house without makeup, even if just for an errand.

“Why are you putting makeup on? We’re just going to get food!” I’ll say.

What is it that makes makeup so vital? When did it suddenly become such a part of everyday life? Why doesn’t every woman know she looks absolutely gorgeous in her own, unique way (and probably better) without makeup on?

Some girls I see around Santa Barbara really make me laugh. But at the same time it’s sad. How old are they? 14? 15? And they look like fake, orange Barbies. It’s not even that bad here. Try doing further down south. It just gets worse and worse.

So I’m glad my dad raised me the way he did. I wouldn’t change it any other way. In fact, I will probably raise my kids similar to him.

I do, however, want to go to Disneyland. It’s definitely not on my list of Top 10 Things I Want To See Before I Die, but I’ve heard so much about it. The curiosity is absolutely killing me.