Rediscovering Makeup, Rediscovering Me: How Lisa Eldridge (and a Plate of Wonky Burritos) Reawakened the Artist in Me

My Journey

There was a time when makeup was more than just a cover-up. It was art. It was therapy. It was ritual.

But somewhere between motherhood, chores, the rush of mornings, and the constant need to show up — even when running on empty — I forgot what it felt like to be beautiful on purpose.

Until one day, a few weeks ago, when I came across a Lisa Eldridge video — one of her classic, soothing tutorials — where she gently applied makeup on a woman with rosacea. Hers was the flush-red kind, not like mine, which is papulopustular and often mistaken for acne. But it didn’t matter. What struck me was how she applied makeup.

She wasn't just painting over redness.

She was caring for the skin. She was honoring the face beneath the makeup.

She was treating every brushstroke like a loving gesture.

It felt like spa therapy, not makeup.

It felt like self-love.

I felt something tighten in my chest — like a small ache from remembering something sacred.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt a pang — not envy, but longing.

I missed the version of me who wasn't just functioning. She was creating. And her life — her home, her mornings, her face — reflected that.

And I realized — I haven’t done that in years.

For several years since becoming a mom, my routine was survival. A quick foundation layer to cover the rashes. A swipe of eyeshadow. A lipstick that says "Don't ask. I'm fine." I don’t do it for the joy anymore. I do it to blend into the world, to look somewhat decent. 

When I had  urticaria, I even skipped the eye makeup. I stopped my usual skincare. I was terrified of skincare and makeup during the chronic urticaria and cystic acne phases of my life. 

But after watching that video, I slowed down. One day while getting ready to go out, I reached for more brushes. I blended from the base up. I took my time. I built the color. I remembered what it felt like to create on my own face. 

I've forgotten how good it felt like to apply eye makeup like this

And when I looked in the mirror, I saw her again — the version of me who enjoyed this. Who looked forward to swatches and new formulas. Who used to sell Too Faced and Benefit, and who lit up at the idea of a new Urban Decay palette.

I gave that all up when I became a mom. 

I gave that all up when I became sick. 

And now, slowly, I'm reclaiming each part — not just the routines, but the woman who made beauty a way of life.

So I’m rebuilding my makeup kit. Slowly. Thoughtfully. For me. 

Shedding the Old Persona

The spark started with this lipstick. 

Then this eyeliner. 

Then I got excited and told my best girl friend, "I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna build my makeup kit again like before, when I was a makeup artist. I'm gonna apply makeup as if I'm the client."

The next thing I bought was this palette:

The first time I used that palette, the colors bloomed like confidence on my skin. The first swipe on my lid made me pause — like I was watching a memory return.

I was in love. In love with myself who is now choosing her soft, luxe life. In love with this version of me - mom and Soft Life CEO.  Me, who can tick tasks off my list daily and still maintain calm and beauty not only within me, but in the environment that I'm moving in. I’m not hustling toward softness. I’m choosing it — one ritual, one product, one moment at a time.

I've started applying nail polish again, too

Last night, I was making dinner. Adobo burritos. It was 9:30 pm. I was watching something, but had to stop in order to make dinner. And that annoyed me a little.  (We are night owls, in case you're wondering why the late dinner.) 

Since this was a muscle memory job, I didn't think about how I was stuffing and folding the tortillas in a hurry. When I looked at all those wonky, misshapen, overstuffed tortillas, I realized that I've been doing the same thing with my life. 

Those messy burritos? They were a metaphor for my life: rushed, overstuffed, folded without thought.

A plateful of Adobo Burritos that mirrored my old and new life

We build beautiful lives the same way we fold burritos — with intention, with care, and with the belief that small daily choices matter.

So, I snapped myself out of machine mode and slowly stuffed and folded each tortilla, to mirror how I'm intentionally living my life now. I folded each one like I'm rebuilding something - a life, a habit, a ritual. 

I used to rush everything. Applying makeup used to take 10 minutes or less. But not last Saturday. My face was rashy like this:

After makeup, it looked like this:

No filters. (I don't even know how to use those). I took my time with skincare and building my makeup. You can still see some of the big bumps though, but not the redness.

It took me an hour to get ready, but I didn't care. I was doing it for myself. I hate being rushed by others, so why would I rush myself? Getting ready slowly, lovingly was my gift to myself.

You won't believe how much work I do in a day. My friends say that I do the work of five people daily. So, on days when I am allowed to take time for me, I savor them. Because I want to celebrate myself again.

Makeup won’t always be a necessity. But on some days, it’s a lifeline. A mirror. A prayer whispered with a brush.

And I want to remember that.

Maybe your version of self-love isn’t makeup. Maybe it’s your coffee routine. Or your reading nook. Or the playlist you press play on at 4 PM. But you’ll feel it — when it starts whispering, “You’re allowed to live like this.”

Thank you, Lisa Eldridge. You woke something up in me that’s been quiet for far too long.

This time, I do this not just to look presentable.

I do this to honor the woman I am — the artist, the mom, the resilient soul who still finds joy in a soft shimmer and a perfectly winged eyeliner.

—

About the Author

Lady E used to be a professional makeup artist. She is also an internationally certified body healing coach. Through her blog, she now helps women of all ages rediscover their beauty through gentle, skin-first approaches that bring out their natural glow — not cover it up.