BT 329 & TalkTalk 329
Beauty habits to ensure you are never cast as a Real Housewife
Wake up with the distinct impression that you have gone blind. After a brief moment of panic, realise that your eyeliner is in cahoots with the fluid in your eye, and the two have formed some kind of powerful adhesive. This is a punishment. Your eyelashes have had a word with your eye, and they’re pretty pissed off about all this falling-asleep-with-your-make-up on.
Shower. Cursory babywipe across your face notwithstanding, your eye make- up is still playing up like it’s the overlooked difficult middle child of your face. You make a futile attempt to remove your mascara with your hands. Placing your eyelashes between your thumb and forefingers, you effectively tweeze your eyelashes until there’s enough black gunk on your fingers for you to be satisfied there’s none left. There is always some left.
This, among other things, is happening while you’re conditioner “sets”. According to the kangaroo on the bottle, your conditioner requires three minutes to set. Once you have scraped this through your hair with the finger-brush you invented, you realise that in the shower, there is no earthly sense of time. What is three minutes, in shower-hours?
You stand in the shower for a bit, waiting. Is it three minutes yet? There is fog on the mirror now. It is probably three minutes.
Make up! You love your make up. There are some things in your make up bag that cost almost sixty pounds, and this fact alone makes you feel glamorous. You squeeze a blob of foundation onto the side of your hand. The side of your hand is the artist’s palette, and using your finger to swish the blog into a circle, you marvel at the colour. “Burnt Sand” the counter girl had called it, while swabbing it on to your face with a cotton bud.
You blush your cheeks, and suck them in to apply bronzer in the special way the girl told you. You “illuminate” the non-shiny parts of your face, and you apply translucent powder to the naturally shiny parts. You are contouring! This is what contouring is!
The foundation you so artfully applied with your fingers and promptly forgot to wash off your hand-palette is now decorating the side of your skirt.
Bored. You’ve gone through all the joke emails in your inbox and now it’s just people asking you to “ping” things at them. You start touching your face, even though you’re not supposed to touch your face. Stop touching your face!
You have accidentally squeezed a spot on your face. There is blood on your finger!
You have dealt with the offending spot in much the same way Civil War nurses dealt with amputated limbs, i.e, daubed a warm-water soaked tissue on it and hoped for the best.
Somehow, you have forgotten that today there is Team Lunch. By now, the make-up you applied five hours ago will have more or less disappeared. Most of your mascara will have migrated to the corner of your eye. You have forgotten to put your make-up bag in your handbag. The Russian doll/bag situation you have so carefully organised for every other day of your life has failed you today.
Luckily, the bottom of your handbag is littered with the second string; the B-sides of your make-up bag. Some of these resilient little warriors have been with you since your sapphire eyeliner phase of 2007. Other greatest hits include: tinted petroleum jelly, cherry-flavoured Carmex, and a pencil eyeliner that hasn’t been sharpened since your Mum threw out your sixth-form pencil case.
You do your best with what you have. You smear the tinted Vaseline across your face to create “a glow”. Mmm, beachy! You also use the Vaseline to smooth down stray bits of eyebrow. You also stumble across some “Lip/Cheek Stain” your arty aunt gave you as a birthday present. It dries on your cheeks like apostrophes.
After-work drinks. In the bathroom of your office’s closest Wetherspoons you see the full effect of this afternoon’s DIY makeover. Look at how gorgeous you are! You are the most gorgeous person in this Wetherspoons bathroom.
Your eye shadow is doing a thing. A weird thing. The crease between your eyelid and your eyebrow has become a refugee camp for your eye shadow residue. A fine snail trail of grey/brown lives there now. You smudge it with your finger. Oooh, smokey! You’re like a Rimmel advert.
After a stint with your head in the fridge, eating your housemate’s Good Brie, you have fallen asleep in your tights and bra. Your face is in your pillow. Tomorrow your pillow will look like a Real Housewife was murdered there, but that’s fine.
You are beautiful.