Hiya!
Today is one of those days where I hate my face, hate the make up I did and wish digital photography and the internet were in my life 10 years ago, when I was less old and ragged.
Let's start the clock at 9am, although that's a bold lie, as I'm never out of bed before 10 am when I can help it.
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09.00 - Sit at dressing table. Open curtains. Spy crusty seagull shit which has been on window for months. Mental note to find a window cleaner. Sometime.
09.01 - Pick up mirror. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH! Accidentally looked in magnifying side, now scarred for life.
09.02 - Wish I had gin to calm my nerves after seeing that. I don't even like gin.
09.03 - Turn mirror round the right way, swearing to score through the other side so I can't get a fright like that again. Ugh. Pores! My eyebrows need plucking.
Approximately 3 weeks later - Brows are plucked. Curse taking after my dark haired dad and not taking after my blonde mum, then remember it could be worse. My mum is 4 ft 8. No, she really is!
09.10 - Look at plucked visage which now resembles a weather-beaten Cornish seafarer.
09.11 - Curse not being this vain when I was 20.
09.12 - Rake through enormous drawers of make up looking for the wonder treatment which'll make me look 20. If only.
09.13 - Pick up eye shadow brushes, inspect for fluff. Contemplate cleaning, but think 'Stuff it, it'll do for one more go.'
09.14 - Slap on some eyelid primer and dollop on a randomly picked eyeshadow.
09.15 - Curse having hooded eyes. Apply 6 feet more eye shadow so people can see it when my eyes are open.
09.16 - IS THAT A HAIR SPROUTING FROM MY CHIN?!?!?!?!?!?!?!
09.17 - Yes it is. Mother Nature, you absolute twatbucket.
09.18 - Blend eye shadow in frenzied window-wiper motion while one solitary tear slips down my left cheek.
09.19 - Am I sure there's no gin?
09.20 - Apply mascara. Realise mascara is getting a bit dry. It's all right, I have another 6.
09.21 - Don't apply to bottom lashes. Alice Cooper look is soooo 1970.
09.22 - Fill in brows, thanking the sweet baby Jesus I stopped over plucking before I had Gary Glitter brows. Shudder.
09.23 Contemplate which of my 3 foundations will fill in the cracks. Wonder why Polyfilla don't go into cosmetics.
09.24 - Dob face liberally with foundation, hoping the slapping action will make me look plump-cheeked and youthful, not post-gin.
09.25 - Work it all in with a stipple brush. I seem to have misplaced my trowel.
09.26 - Poke self in eye with stipple brush. Solitary tear flows down right cheek. Alice Cooper's not such a bad look after all when both eyes match.
09.27 - Buff in with stiff bristled brush.
09.28 - My face tickles. Look in mirror, 27 thick black hairs shed from brush gives me a look into the future - how I will look when I'm 62 and those hairs from my chin have migrated North.
09.29 - Weep silently.
09.30 - Rake around in lipstick drawer for something that'll make my teeth look Simon Cowell-esque.
09.31 - Apply lipstick. Smile into mirror. Vow never to do it in public again.
09.32 - Ta da! Done.
09.33 - Take the long walk to the kitchen in search of gin. No gin. Eff you universe!
09.34 - Eat Tunnock's Teacakes I've been saving for my dad. Screw foil wrappers up in a futile rage, knowing it's only going to get worse with age.
09.35 - Online shopping. One litre of gin.
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If you did a time line like this, what would be on it?
Thanks for reading!
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