Am I Hot Yet?
Insecurity spiralling through the TikTok beauty tips on my FYP
It’s 7:30am. I’m still waking up. A teenager on my phone tells me I’ve been doing my makeup wrong my whole life. She has a theory about blush placement. I - with greasy hair, sweaty pyjamas, and no intention of putting on makeup - emphatically nod along from under the covers.
Yes, I think, I must draw more attention to my cheekbones.
The TikToker shows a comparison of the two sides of her face. One is obviously superior. A different person, practically.
“It changes everything.”
I get out of bed with a newfound sense of purpose.
This is a typical interaction for me on TikTok. I am a sucker for beauty tips, despite living in the same four pairs of sweatpants and going (mostly) makeup-free during the week.
The delivery is what sells me. My FYP is filled with advice presented like philosophical schools of thought. I am but a humble student, tuning into tiny lectures on hair health, wardrobe edits, and contradicting ideologies on eyeliner.
It’s all very…confusing. I’m approaching thirty and still feel like I’m in the information-gathering stage of my appearance. I’m waiting for my signature hair, outfit, and overall look to become clear.
I asked Mark - a man who would live in an American Apparel white zippered hoodie if I let him - when he decided on his style. How did he know when to stop iterating?
“I always wanted to dress like the people I idolized.” He said.
For a Millennial raised on punk and indie rock, the hoodie tracks.
I remember growing up and desperately wanting to look like celebrities, too. We brought photos of them to the hairdresser. We read magazines that touted their workout and makeup routines. We all wanted Keira Knightley’s green Atonement dress for prom.
Imitation was the highest form of beauty.
The principle of TikTok is different. I consult them like oracles who will tell me what will look best on me. Each video is like a new personality quiz that promises to bring me closer to my idealized look.
It’s not about being them. It’s about becoming more beautiful through a better understanding of yourself. Ie: catnip for gals that go to therapy and love astrology.
The insecurity fearmongering has aged with us.
But, of course, TikTok comes at a faster clip than Seventeen Magazine. The “work” and self-discovery are never done. There is always a deeper truth and newer beauty tip to mine.
In the few years I’ve been on the app, I have learned and ascribed to:
This is a myth, but I learned a lot about my hair by falling down this rabbit hole. Who knew it was possible to shampoo wrong!?
I’m a Romantic based on the descriptions alone. I’m too lazy to actually measure anything.
This one took me months, but I am a Spring. I can not tell you if my Spring is True or Warm or Cold or Mythological. I just know it’s Spring.
Based on face measurements, I’m supposed to have long hair. I’ve been growing it all year.
This was fun to do! It’s about curating a wardrobe based on three words that define your personal style. Mine are Funky, Feminine, and Functional. Am I nailing it?!?
This one really messed with my head, and I think my eyebrows are still too short.
An Eyeliner Technique for My Eye Shape
Doe eyes, allegedly
I’m also Romantic on this scale. Apparently, that means my eyeliner should actually be part “Puppydog”, part “Siren”. Typing these words makes me feel insane. Please tell me you’re following.
“Smaller face with big and bold features” should be the name of my memoir.
The list, I’m sure, will continue to grow.
It was almost easier trying to emulate a celebrity. There was a clear objective.
The goalpost for being the best, most attractive version of myself changes with everything I learn. I go from feeling beautiful to panicking about a technique I’ve been doing “wrong” or how stupid I am for not knowing my ideal nose contour shape or whatever the hell it is that week.
The challenge is that the advice usually works. Every new theory brings me just enough success - just the right amount of “Oh my god that colour looks great on you” - to convince me that my idealized form is right around the corner.
TikTok has me trapped in a makeover montage that never ends.
I am Sisyphus for serums. Every day the same learning and unlearning, pushing a giant liquid highlighter up and down the hill for eternity, waiting to finally feel complete.
In some ways, it’s like writing. There is always something to edit or change. There is no “done” - there is only stopping.
When, exactly, should I stop making tweaks and commit to a life of American Apparel hoodies? I asked Mark what he thought the idealized form was. What is it all driving to?
Mark sagely replied, “Confidence.”
Of course. The ultimate contradiction.
The knowledge that there is always something to improve fundamentally chips away at confidence. I was better off with oily skin, dead hair, and the wrong eyebrows, simply because I was blissfully unaware that it could be any different.
A lot has been made about how damaging it is for kids to be on TikTok. The onslaught of information on how to be beautiful is overwhelming for anyone, not to mention children. 12-year-olds are demanding anti-ageing products because of the app.
How disgustingly dystopian.
“Legging Legs” is the newest - and worst - trend I’ve seen. The premise is that you have legs that look good in leggings, or you don’t. Yikes.
Unlike a tip about blush placement, “Legging Legs” qualifies how attractive you are based on a largely unchangeable element of your physique. Like anything on TikTok, this trend is sure to be in and out of timelines in a matter of days. That’s all the time it needs to unlock new insecurities in a whole generation of girls.
And, in the case of many Millennials, resurface old ones.
“Thigh Gaps” were our generation’s “Legging Legs.” Nothing was more coveted than having thighs that did not touch. The twiggier, the better.
I have long struggled with the size of my thighs:
In grade three, I wrote a poem about a girl who cut off her fat (dark, I know).
In grade six, I sat with my tip toes on the ground to lift my thighs slightly off the chair (and therefore look skinnier).
In grade nine, I refused to wear the school kilt, opting to cover my legs in the boy’s pants for eternity.
In senior year, I downloaded MyFitnessPal and (unsuccessfully) restricted myself to 1100 calories a day.
In university, I saran-wrapped my legs with coffee grounds and coconut oil to reduce cellulite. A night out that ended in vomiting was a success. “Free calories,” I would joke.
Today, I am the happiest I’ve ever been with my legs. At times, I can’t tell if it’s because I’ve healed, or because I’ve managed to shrink and sculpt and HIIT my way into a very different body than I had in school. My thighs - which will never have a gap - have reduced in both cellulite and jiggle.
I think about them so much less than I used to, but the self-consciousness is never fully gone. I still hate shorts, and I still catch dimples in certain lighting that make me want to cry. Mostly though, the time I spent yearning for a thigh gap has been replaced by worrying about my hair, makeup, and now ageing.
To be a woman is to play whack-a-mole with insecurities.
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Recently, I stumbled on a makeup artist giving tips for women over forty. I love her content and have been using her TikTok tips religiously. In one video she shows the only place she recommends using powder:
“As we mature, this gets more textural. See? You don’t want anything to glow in this area“ she says.
I nod along, enthralled.
Yes, I think, I must draw attention away from my nasal fold.
It was only while writing this piece that I realized I’m just like the 12-year-olds asking for anti-ageing products. Why on earth am I watching a woman twenty years older than me do her makeup??
How did I get here?
TikTok has helped me rationalize my insecurities by feeding me technique-based content. I’ve tricked myself into thinking I’m just “evolving my style” and learning makeup skills when, in reality, I’ve been consumed by more stressors than I need.
I’m not falling prey to “Legging Legs,” but I’m not coming out unscathed either. I may be evolving my look every week, but I’m not getting any closer to confidence.
On the plus side, my new blush, eyeliner, colour palette, and style words have made me hotter than ever. Right?
RIGHT?????
Hanging Questions:
What beauty trend are you into?
Does anyone else participate in my insecurity spiral chart? Have you escaped it??
At what point do I just delete TikTok?
Speaking of Thigh Gaps….Does anyone remember the piece of paper challenge?!? Good god it’s a wonder we’re all alive.