Today was an interesting day. I am feeling a little fragile, what with the diet and the not smoking. Mr Kawaii took me to see Breaking Dawn at the cinema. When that failed to put me in a better mood, he took me for sushi. Incidentally, sat opposite from us at Yo! Sushi was the lovely Jessica Fox, who plays Nancy in Hollyoaks. (Funnily enough, the only Hollyoaks character that Tim recognises... could that be the fact that she's the only one who is a) naturally pretty and b) not orange?)
When even the prospect of low calorie tasty nom and dining with the [soap]stars failed to cheer me up, my handsome chap decided to take me to Boots, which is usually a complete fail safe. Seeing as he had (generously) paid for lunch, I had a few precious pounds going spare, and I wanted to spend them on Benefit make up. "Boi-ing" industrial strength concealer, to be precise.
I skulk into Boots, feeling very deflated and not at all in the mood to be pestered by sales assistants. Needless to say I got within ten feet of the Benefit stand before I was accosted.
Benefit Lady - "Do you need any help there?"
[No thank you, if you could just let me actually approach the stand and look at some merchandise before you harass me, that would be all the help I need...]
Me - "Erm, yeah... Which is better for oily skin, Boi-ing or Erase Paste?"
BL - "What's it for?"
[It's a concealer you nimrod, what do you expect me to do with it, spread it on my bleeding toast?! It's to conceal minging bits of my face, you tool!]
Me - "I have spots and stuff, so... yeah."
BL - "Yeah Boi-ing is going to be best for you then if you're skin's oily. It's a bit drier, whereas Erase Paste is a bit wetter. Would you like me to put a bit on for you, show you how it looks?"
Me - "Yeah, OK. Thanks." <<<<BIG MISTAKE
At this point I was accosted by the nice lady (who isn't an actual moron, she's just following the sales spiel. She's actually quite helpful...) and manacled to a bar stool next to the counter. Concealer, I wanted. Just concealer. Write that down - "Carly ONLY wanted to buy concealer" - that bit is important. I had a face full of slap on already which was perfectly fine apart from a teeny bit of smudged mascara which I hasten to add was absolutely nothing to do with me crying like a child watching Breaking Dawn earlier. Nuh-uh. Not me. (I totally did. Shut up.)
She proceeds to take all my make up off. I did not authorise this. Never mind. She layered on moisturiser, primer, heavy foundation (in a shade way too dark) and then the concealer.Oh, and blush. Oh, and then highlighter. She did this only on one half of my face. I looked like Two-Face off Batman. Bloody marvellous. She kept asking questions such as "Doesn't that look matte?" [NO, I look like a laminated lunatic] "That feels nice and light on your skin, 'cause it's got no oils in, right? [NO, it feels like a danger to marine life]...
After what felt like a lifetime of me looking at her streaky, orange, fake-tan-disaster hands she finally decided to do the other half of my face, y'know, so I could actually leave Boots without scaring small children in the outside world. When she was finished, she proudly presented me with the mirror. I felt it would be somewhat impolite to look aghast at the sweaty-looking orange mess I saw before me. I thought it rude to demand she remove the muddy brown tidemarks smeared across my jawline and neck. (How deliciously Scouse! I'm a "scouse brow" away from being a Z-List celeb, yay.) I begrudgingly thanked her, bought the concealer and left. Hiding my face behind Mr Kawaii. Horrified.
Thankfully when applied with fingers as opposed to a trowel and over a shade of foundation that makes me look a little less like a Belisha Beacon, the Boi-ing concealer is absolutely fabulous. It matches my porcelain (read: deathly pallor) complexion really well, being a more pinky-white tone than the yellowy based one I usually use. I may even give you a review on it after I've used it a couple more times, you lucky bunch!
The moral of the story is: Do not let department store/beauty counter ladies near your face for any reason. They wear polo necks for a reason; to prop their heavily-caked faced up. I'm telling you this because I love you.