No-one likes to admit they have a gaping hole in their cache of basic life skills. But I do. And it’s been weighing on my mind a little heavier these past few years.
The only advice my mother ever gave me on the subject was this – “put some lipstick on or you’ll look half dead”.
She’s really a caring woman, but makeup just doesn’t rate amongst her priorities.
So here I am, wafting through my 30s, quite bereft of the basic skills to make the best of what life has dealt me.
I don’t know the difference between foundation and concealer, though I own tubes of both. I’m told I need powder and liners of all descriptions. I have a tub of brush-on-radiance that never gets the chance to shine and my collection of lipsticks looks nothing like the fashions I see in the magazines and on TV.
I would like to wander into the chemist and ask the beautifully presented makeup artists exactly where to start. But, they seem to assume a certain (basic) level of knowledge before you even walk in the door. It’s embarrassing.
From time to time, I have tried to make an effort. The latest and most crushing incident occurred back in November. Suffice to say – I tried, I failed, there were photographs taken. I don’t want to think about it. And yet, here we are.
I guess there’s only one thing for it. Firstly, admit my age (30* might have been under-cooking it a bit, but we’re all friends, so let’s move on). Secondly, I shall avoid the unkind glare of the shopping centre lights until I can face up to it with some degree of confidence. And thirdly, bite the bullet and ask for help.
I’ve got to make up for lost time.