My Makeover

Or, how I ended up looking roughly like this:

SEXY!

Click 'Read more' down the bottom there!

     

Today, I went to go and have a makeover. I went to buy some make-up a couple days ago and told the nice make-up lady who was kindly displaying all her wares on her face that ALL FOUNDATION MAKES MY FACE BURN LIKE THE FIRES OF HELL. She recommended a makeover, of course, rather than, say, water, or help of any kind.

But hey, I'm a girl, and I like girly things like makeovers, and I quite like people doing things for me that would otherwise take up important minutes of my time, when I could be doing things like sitting, and breathing, and making noises with my nose.

So today I turned up at the counter and announced my arrival and subsequent desire for my over to be made. I was sat down and attacked with all sorts of brushes, while she told me (this is word-for-word here) that swirling the brush created a 'vacuum' for the powder, which would make it all magically stick to the brush. God only knows what she meant there, but make-up science is probably WAY beyond me. When she was 'buffing' my face with a brush, she told me that the 'buff' movement would help the powder 'adhere to my face'. Seriously? Try it, people, buffing apparently makes your face TURN TO GLUE. Not really the desired effect of foundation, but hey.

So she turned the mirror towards me (helpfully holding it about waist-height, as if what she had done to my chin was a particular work of art) and I was invited to inspect the half-face of make-up she had done.

Safe to say I saw no difference, and faced with my own face, I was unsure what to say:

She took this to mean 'CARRY ON, WENCH' and did so duly, telling me all about the exciting muddy ingredients inside and coming up with more made-up science about squibblybibblyhydrolipics that made my face-holes smaller. Or something. I nodded and pretended to understand when really I was just falling asleep under the softy-soft brush. At one point she asked me to smile so she could find the blusher-space and I did something like this:

Have you ever tried to fake-smile on command? Have you ever managed to do it and not like an escapee from the nearby asylum wielding 2 slices of Marmitey bread and a pair of Batman pants? No. Exactly.

Anyway, she finished my face. And just like that bit at the end of a haircut where they show you the back of your head and wait for some kind of applause, even though it JUST LOOKS LIKE HAIR, I was completely lost as to what to say. Again, it looked no different, but I didn't want to insult or belittle her brushy face skills, so I gave a sort of comment...

...And then we moved on to the rest of the make-up (some sort of dark powder, with no function that I could see, lip gloss that made my lips feel like I'd just kissed Dry Ice Man and various other things that just looked like soil... and actually proclaimed that they were on the packaging.)

Now, up until now, nothing she had done had made any difference to my face, other than making it gluey. So imagine my horror when faced with this all of a sudden:

But then she turfed me out of the chair and wrote a list of all the things I MUST buy if I didn't want my face to fall off in the middle of the day, and assured me it was all a bargain...