So I pretended — to myself and the world — that I wasn’t one. It’s a familiar scene — almost. A few years ago, as I got ready for whatever alienating temp job I was working at the time, I stood in front of the mirror finishing my makeup routine. I started with foundation to cover my greying skin, followed by powder to offset the sweating; next came blush to add some color and life to my face. Heavy eye concealer was crucial, eyeliner to cover the red rims, and mascara for flourish. ...
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