A week on from my decision to use up all the cosmetics I have lying around and all I’ve learnt is that getting dressed too soon after applying body lotion is like trying to gift wrap a seal.
Despite slathering, rubbing and applying like a mad woman, I’ve only used up three things. Some eye-gel, one of those conditioners you get with hair dye kits and an anti-aging serum.
I quite liked the anti-aging serum because it advised that you test it on your hand for THREE days prior to going anywhere near your face, potent stuff. I like my cosmetics to be a bit scary, along with horrendously expensive, it gives the stamp of effectiveness to a product that actual science can’t.
I think there’s a gap in the market for cruel cosmetics. I’m contemplating starting my own brand. My derma-abrasion kit would be a box costing £100 and containing a sheet of sandpaper. My £50 nail-varnish remover would be paint-stripper, and for unsightly hair, invest in my mini flame-thrower.
Basically, make up is all about swelling up parts of your face and reddening others, and my products would achieve a satisfactorily permanent effect. Buy any two products in my beauty range and get a free Epi pen.
Given the cosmetic industry’s long history of using poisons in their products I’m pretty sure I’d clean up. Make customers sign a disclaimer before purchase and I’ll sell out in seconds. Some people pay a lot of money to have botulism toxin injected into their face, if anything I’m playing it safe.
On the plus side of my cosmetics clear-out mission, showers are more fun. Seeing as I’m spending more time in there using up all my lotions and gels, I’ve taken to using some exfoliating gloves which have been hanging around for a while. They look a lot like my husband’s potato scrubbing gloves, but I try not to think about this too much when I’m using them.
There’s something about wearing gloves which immediately makes me want to mime. I manage to quell this urge in public (mostly), but in the shower I am free to get as Marcel Marceau as I like. My specialty is ‘trapped in a glass box’ although as I’m in the shower and actually in a glass box, I suppose it ceases to be mime and becomes just ‘woman in a shower wearing potato scrubbing gloves’. I could mime scrubbing potatoes I suppose, but I’m not sure my skills are up to it yet. It might look like I’m exfoliating a baby chick.
Of course there are rarely many people to witness this mime, so I probably shouldn’t worry too much. There is the webcam in there, which I set up so I could discover whether guests think my bathroom is sufficiently clean (if a dip below a 40% approval rating, I clean it), which I could use to show people my mime.
Although, maybe that’s not a great idea, if I show people a recording of me in the shower wearing nothing but gloves and miming they might think “Hey she has a webcam in her bathroom” and then in future they won’t be as honest about the state of my toilet.
I apologise if I’ve wandered off the point of this blog, but I promise that I’ll be more sensible in my next post, which will be about how all the chemicals seeping into my pores may be giving me super-powers.