Effie Trinket had a nightly practice, starting with the removal of her wig until she was completely naked. Her hands easily unpinned whatever ridiculously colored wig she had adapted and set it carefully to the side. She then pulled her honey blonde tresses out of the tight crown braid she kept it in under the wig. Her delicate fingers would run through the mess of curls as the deep waves fell to her shoulders. Deep rich tones of brown and gold mixed together, shining in the lamplight of her bathroom. She would carefully drag a brush through her hair before setting it down and picking up a towel.
Her hands usually trembled at this point, revealing the insecurities that she faced, but Effie was a trooper and so she let warm water run over her towel until it was damp. Gently, she pulled it over her face, in long streaks. She had a habit of moving from the left side of her face to the right. This action would result in the top layer of her make up being gone, revealing that she was not as pale as one would believe. Her skin was creamy with a tan cast and light freckles dusting her nose. Effie usually would glance in the mirror and her lips would tighten, just a fraction. Her dissatisfaction from her appearance stemmed from years of desiring to be as beautiful as the Capital She would then take the towel to her lips removing whatever color she had deemed to wear that day, whether it was bright pink or a shocking blue. Beneath the thick coating of color was a pair of kissable lips. They were plump and a rose pink and her lower one was slightly fuller than the top one.
She would eventually finish uncovering her face, proving she was much younger than anyone suspected, and yet so much older. The lines of her face from years of stress were there. On it heartbreak was written from the laugh lines near her eyes, so barely visible yet there, to the thin scar that ran near her hairline, one she was too sentimental to have removed. Her eyelashes were a light gold, and so were her eyebrows. Her natural face had a flush on it, much like a young maiden would have, beautiful and a gift of not cosmetics but from her genetics.
Effie would always carefully step out of her heels, her graceful feet landing on the cool tiles of the floor. She would shiver delicately at the change in temperature before removing her stockings (she insisted it was improper to wear her legs bare) and then shimmy out of them. Carefully, like with everything else, Effie would unbutton her skirt and let it fall to the floor. She would step out of it and pick it up, carefully folding it before her shirt followed. She would stand for a few moments observing her looks before removing her underwear and bra, tucking those with her clothes.
Whenever she was fully naked, standing in front of the mirror, Effie always let her eyes run over herself. She would turn from side to side, always with dissatisfaction at her body. Her eyes did not see her flat smooth stomach or her long shapely legs. They saw the scars that ran on the inside of her thighs and the heaviness from leaving the Capitol. She did not see her beautiful shape and her strong back but only the marks left from war. Effie was not beautiful in her eyes, she was nothing without the fuss of the Capitol and even then, she did not see herself truly.
She did not see the gold of her skin or the glow she radiated. She did not see the gentle curve of her breast or the swing in her hips. Effie's eyes did not trace her body with desire she did not view herself in anything other than how utterly failing she was to the picture of beauty she had so long been trained to understand.
So when his hands, always so gentle, traced the curve of her neck and she could see his eyes darkening in the mirror Effie did not always understand. His lips would gently whisper in her ears "beautiful" as though he was telling the truth before his hands clutched her hips. He would pull her against him, her naked form against his clothed one and smile as she flushed, following his lead.
There, in the Victor's Village of what used to be District 12, Haymitch would lead Effie from their shared bathroom towards the bed and show her exactly how beautiful she really was.