The highlight of the day came when I decided on a carpe diem approach to curing the make-up defying red patches that have taken residence on my face with a mask made of cream cheese and fresh lemon juice. It smelt delicious, in case you’re interested. Alas, it did not solve the redness, as the internet promised it would. After removing the lunchtime snack, I looked at myself for two seconds in the mirror, mentally threw my hands up in the air, and for the very first time in my life Googled life changing issues such as:
– Skin care regimes for your 30s; and
– Where can you buy [acidic, unfriendly skin sounding chemicals] that deliver to Switzerland?
When I couldn’t get straight to the heart of these issues, I decided to make my eyes cosmetically ‘pop’, as instructed by a child young enough to be my daughter had I been more sexually advanced in my teens – which might have been the case had I ever learnt to properly apply make up. She had a palette of twenty eye shadows. I have a (now) redundant kit that someone sold me outside the WH Smith in Charlton. I’ve not known what to do with my collection of make-up brushes since receiving them as a gift two years ago, but was encouraged to see the girl using similar looking tools. I left her on in the background and pulled out my make-up bag (which means stuff I have brought in the recent past when I get into a ‘I should be more of a girl’ mood) and tried to ‘contour’.
The last time I heard the word ‘contour’ as much was in year seven Geography. I have no idea what they were talking about then, and I still have no idea now. I think it’s because I’m not a natural artist (or geographer). I’ve seen people put on make up and practically change their whole face. I’ve seen drag queens who wear make-up more convincingly than I do. The eye make-up kept disappearing into small bursts of coloured cloud instead of sitting on my face and when it did stick, there were just lines of different coloured eye make up. I think the word ‘blend’ fits into this somehow, likely with its own special brush, but I’ll look into that another day.
After scraping the stupid clown look from my eyes, I returned to the earlier quest of finding out what in tarnation I’m supposed to have been doing in my twenties to my skin that I clearly didn’t, and what, if anything, I can do now. Cue millions of pages of advice that did nothing but bamboozle me further. I have never heard of ‘phytollipid’ or ‘glycollic’ until today. They sound unfriendly, like something a cigarette pack should be admonishing you for. Regardless, and sticking to my cause, I found a site that delivers to Switzerland and queued up some sci-fi driven bottled potions that should arrive in a few days.
On reflection, it’s not my proudest day. Additionally, the cream cheese seems to have exacerbated the red patches and they have now spread to my nose.