It's the stuff of the Devil.

Today I was contemplating the scourge of womankind known as makeup. It was brought to my attention by my ballet classmates. We have a performance coming up this weekend for which we will be compelled to wear full stage makeup. Most of these ladies don't mind makeup too much, but Monica realized the horror of the spawn of the devil: "I just can't stand foundation!" Suddenly a vivid image imposed itself upon my consciousness.
I saw Satan sitting on his demonic throne, plotting with his minions ways to afflict mankind (as if mankind doesn't do well enough on their own.) "We must think of a way to afflict women, my minions," The Devil mused, "Something that will clog their pores and causes rashes and acne and be horribly uncomfortable to boot." The lesser demons sat in thought as Satan pondered. "I know, I know!" One of the braver imps piped up, "We could call it 'makeup!' Women will smear it on their faces in thick layers like paint, and the Media demons will start working to undermine their self-confidence so that they'll be sure to be wasteful about it!"
"Of course," Satan growled, "I was about to say that same thing, but you cut me off." So the Devil and his servants gathered around their fiery cauldrons. They poured in artificial color and thick oil. They mixed it with selfishness and self-hate. Then they added a touch of itch and rash. "It's ready!" the Devil cried, "Send this recipe to all our manufacturing plants and get some imps into Marketing!" The lesser demons all crawled off to their menial tasks.
This, my dear readers, explains so much about the makeup phenomenon.