My bestest friend in the whole world, Trish, came to visit this weekend. We had some massage, went to my mom’s birthday, went to a party where old friends weren’t expecting us, and generally ate, drank and were merry.
And she did my face.
She plucked my eyebrows and used all kinds of creams, brushes and powders for the rest of the mug. I have to say I am now ruined.
I was a believer that less is more when it comes to face paint. Up until yesterday, I was the occasional user of a little eyeliner, lipstick and blush, but little more. I don’t wear makeup every day. Trish kept using primers and concealers and I even think a bit of unicorn horn. At one point, I asked her, “Do I really need that stuff under my eyes?” She said, “Um, you’re the mother of two toddlers, so, yup.”
It took a while, but when she was done, I. Looked. FABULOUS!
Here lies the rub; all I see now is the bags under my eyes. I didn’t know how doudy I was until she fixed it. Now it’s all I see in the mirror.
I love what she did with my eyebrows though. She was like one of the Dukes of Hazard: straightening the curves and flatening the hills. My previously lumpy eyebrows are now two graceful, matching arcs across my face.
Now, what can I do about the dark circles?