We are on our way to Wedding 2 of 3 of the Summer.
There was a time when, the night before a Wedding, James and I would slug litres of booze and then leap out of bed the following morning two hours before the ceremony, chuck our outfits on, I would slap a bit of this and that on my face and off we’d trot with our phones and cash cards.
That was the sum total of the thought I gave to my face.
No more. No bloody more.
Staggering out of bed this morning with the slightly dull headache that occurs, apparently SCREW YOU FATES, from consuming one small glass of wine after eating a good dinner, I recoiled from my reflection.
These days, without makeup, I am ghastly. Thank heavens for foundation, concealer, powder, bronzer, blusher, highlighter, eye shadow, liner and mascara. And lippie. Without it I am little more than a wraith.
What is especially cruel is that it seems, with the gaining of years, makeup loses traction with your face. Bugger me but it slips off. Below is a sample of the selection of crap it took for me to make myself presentable enough not to scare my cousin’s children when we arrive at the Wedding shortly. And I have now shoved the majority of this into my handbag (another symptom of the passage of time – bigger handbags) in the full knowledge that I will need to reapply concealer and power and touch up my eye-make multiple times over the course of the day if I am not end up looking like an unsteady hag by the end of it.
So if anything is a reflection of my life-stage my friends, it is my bulging handbag.