beautiful and chubby

Chubby sticks.

Lipstick in crayon format.

Like a twistable.

Worthy of investigation, surely?

If this was a television event I’d be marketing it to you as ‘LIVE’ because I’ve started to write the post without opening the product. You’re going to be getting reactions as they happen. Go on, at least pretend to be excited.

First off, how could anybody not like a product called ‘chubby sticks’? Being a stick insect is not required. It references cute, cuddly, non threatening. Accessible to all. Humour. It’s a crayon- fun, bright colours, easy to use.  Make up for real people.

Those who know say it’s a sort of mixture between a lipstick and a non sticky gloss. Marian raves about it. Her enthusiasm is infectious, so I was delighted to get a gift of, not one, but two chubby sticks and a rather cool wee pencil case for them to live in.

Clinique call these “moisturising lip colour balm”, and in truth, that’s what they feel like. Gentle, with colour. Soft. I’ve got neutral type colours that look like they will be easy to wear everyday. I don’t often need ‘statement’ type make up.

People, I’ve realised why I don’t do make up posts. A close up of an unmade up face, with only a neutral coloured moisturising lip colour balm to hide behind… eek!

That feels so much more exposing than any amount of rambling about brain fog, gabbling about grieving or venting about volunteering.

Laugh long and loud. Enjoy. You may never get this chance again!

the secret to looking good

Blogging makes me a better observer of my world. I try to find a story in the everyday; to find the humour in the mundane; to value what goes on around me.

Last year I started to take photographs. Some of you may remember that photography used to be an expensive thing to get wrong. I never learned how to get it right. Now, I keep the camera about and pretend the worst shots never happened. I’m getting into the habit of taking pics where once I’d simply have been too self concious to even try.

When going out for a walk at the weekend (a regular trundle by the river when I have the energy) I came back in to lift the camera. Why? “Because I look better when I have the camera…”

the ultimate accessory

Think, people, of all the money I could have saved on hair gunge, skin ungents and face colour inners. I need not give weightwatchers any more money for meetings. I don’t have to buy flattering clothes, or leg extending shoes.

All I need to do is carry the camera.

No need to thank me for this wisdom; some secrets are meant to be shared.

crash

It is after noon. My back aches, my limbs hurt and my brain is fluff. The thought of being upright defeats me.

I had plans. Not exciting, adventure type plans. More the dull, domestic ones. Plans to stop us contracting some scary bug from the grub, or drowning in dust, or simply starving.

I have a list of tasks. Most of them aren’t completed. Even the easy ones.

I’m going to need to move. The children are well used to me being in bed, but they’d get anxious if they were to find me as they left me, the great unwashed, wrapped in the duvet.

separated at birth- Speccy and Sleeping Beauty

My hair is a problem. Not a world economic problem, or a coalition government problem, but a problem for me, right now. It needs washed. Will I be able to stand for that long? It’s too short at the minute; can I face the thought of straightening it? No. So, it will look ridiculous, and I won’t have time to sort it tomorrow before we spend many more hours looking at secondary schools. Who’ll be looking at me anyway?

Guilt, I shouldn’t be so negative about spending time at schools- how else are we going to find out where might suit Girl1? But they do drag on, and I’ve run out of enthusiasm.  So I have energy for guilt, but not enough for excitement? Maybe bed is the right place for me.

It’s miserable and dank outside.

Grump.

Wallow.

Groan.

Huff.

Puff.

Moan.

Bah!

.

.

What do you mean, you don’t want to call round? I’ll not be smelly by the time you get here…

dating, deportment and disappointment

The make up artist was baffled. How had it come to this? She lived in a massive house in an area where pedestrians are unusual. She drove a fancy car. She had a business, and even a website. She could coach deportment. She could give advice on dating and corporate image. She knew about colour. She was coordinated.

Why were two bedraggled women in black standing on her door step? They were wet, and almost giddy. They had not brought daughters with them. All her creativity, her years of training, the film work, and this is all she’s got to show for it- showing women (closer in age to 50 than 20- the horror) how to put on two colours of eyeliner.

Her hopes and aspirations lay in shards. The women tried to lift the mood and made small talk. They entertained themselves and so the make up artist didn’t have to make too much of an effort. Sometimes they asked ridiculous questions, but she rose above her despair and answered politely. Her only relief was to play a little trick with blusher. The light was poor, they’d never notice.

not the actual victim, but close

The long hour ended. They all knew they wouldn’t repeat the experience. The make up artist walked them the long way to the door before retiring to Pinot and parents.

The women laughed all the way home.

What did they learn at the tutorial?

- the rich are different from the rest of us.

- the main reason to apply foundation with a brush is so the brush can then be used as an eraser to fix mistakes.

-matching your earrings and your belt just looks odd.

image from beaut.ie