Nothing like being scolded by the make-up counter lady
In my bi-yearly trip to the make-up counter to purchase foundation that actually works (and covers my somewhat acne ridden adult face that is resisting the now thirty year old rest of the body)-- I had a startling revelation. I am now an adult. At least my skin is. Here's what clued me in:
I guess the WHEN is now. Cause, as make-up lady scolded, even after I bought and paid for the $18 moisturizer, "You need it for your skin to be smooth." I thought it was supposed to feel like sandpaper.
"I think I'd like to purchase some blush too," I touch the various shade plates, finding one that looks right.My mom and I never really had the whole let's-teach-you-how-to-put-make-up-on session. That was for me and my girlfriends. And then when I WAS allowed to wear it openly around my parents-- I guess it didn't look too awful (except in the late 80s), because no one said anything to me. So, I didn't get the whole moisturizer run-down. Nor, the age limit about WHEN I was supposed to start using it.
"Sure! Let's help you find a shade," make-up lady responds in just a bit too cheery tone, that should have clued me in. She blinks. Smiles. And then blinks again.
"How about this one?" I point to a plumish/pinkish shade that sorta looks like the one I had at home. Bought at the cheap no-make-up-consultant-required store.
"That looks like a wonderful choice. Let's try it," she grabs my chin like a grandmother and shoves it under a fluorescent light/hood contraption that also alarms me by placing my face in front of a magnifying mirror.
Trying to do anything but look in THAT mirror at my face 4 times its size, I look at her face. And then her hand ready to smear the blusher onto my cheek with a smashed Kleenex. I glance back at her face, desperate for this whole testing make-up thing to be over--and seriously wondering why I decided to even purchase the make-up--she frowns. A deep, brow-wrinkling frown.
I hated to ask but did anyway, "What?"
"Hon," she scolds, "You really need moisturizer." She pokes a little at my face and then roughly applies blush. "You need it terribly," she says with each stroke on my face.
I guess the WHEN is now. Cause, as make-up lady scolded, even after I bought and paid for the $18 moisturizer, "You need it for your skin to be smooth." I thought it was supposed to feel like sandpaper.
