Morning after mascara

I wore mascara a few days ago. It's still wearing me. Now that I am more, ahem, mature, there are more cracks for the mascara bits to hide in, making removal much like an archaeological dig - slowly, layer by layer, day by day, shards of black artifacts are unearthed and examined. Same with eye shadow. By chance I like peanut butter on my toast and it often removes the last corporeal remains of lipstick. Perhaps I should try this on my eyes.

Drop crotch leggings worn on top of my jeans. DIY t-shirt.

Given a little more time, I suspect governments and corporations will set up tiny oil rigs on our eyelids to harvest cosmetic sludge aged to perfection with time, pressure, and hot flashes, a bit like how diamonds are made but without the big payoff - don't expect sales of this brand of crude at Tiffany.

Hey, who's been fracking on my face?!!

On the plus side, with those dark morning-after smudges comes an undeniable nasty-woman allure - "I was out all night partying after the concert and slept with, um, I forget their his? her? name" that may get tongues wagging in a delightful, "Oh, I feel so young again!" way. But that only works if your hair also looks like a rat's nest. The loose slob effect requires finesse. One without the other is a sure giveaway that you are a sorry pretender who probably spends hundreds of dollars to look artfully bad.

Nest hair? Yup, I'm the real deal, see above. In this outfit, I am wearing leggings with the crotch hanging down on top of my jeans, like I dressed in a hurry after I woke up in the wrong bed. Heh. After 50, we, if anyone, deserve to look like we've been partying all night without actually partying. Henceforth, "resting bitch face" will be known as "party face". Youngsters will look on with envy and horrified disgust.

Wouldn't it be great if there was a morning-after pill, not for family planning because who needs that now? It's not like you can stuff your grown children back up your hoo-haw and pretend the whole thing didn't happen. But a morning-after pill for cosmetics, right? One pill and, poof!, the makeup is gone. No more sandpaper, grinders, unguents, and emollients. With such a pill, each day would be a smorgasbord of false eyelashes, eyeliner, glitter, mascara, and shadows in a range of fruity colours.

Sigh.

And now we welcome the newest trend - going makeup free. Puh. How can we possibly afford that!? It's not like we all have a team of pro photographers and stylists and lighting experts, plastic surgeons and genetic therapists, poolside homes, personal chefs and photo editing experts on standby (I am my own gaffer). No thank you. I'm not rich enough to go makeup free, plus I could use some oil reserve royalties.

Wearing my winter coat the modern way - falling right off.

It's too bad the morning-after effect isn't limited to the face. My whole body tells me it's party party party all the time. Why haven't I been invited?!! Or maybe I was and I just forgot - I filed the memo in my cloud memory and it simply drifted away or my memory stick crashed. Maybe it's time for my actions to catch up to my hangover. Can you believe I didn't have my first New Year's booze until January 3? And I had to be prompted for it?! If ever there was a year to take up drinking, this is it.

But no, I shall simply be content on the path of occasional eye makeup debauchery and archaeological discovery. Pass me the bottle, will ya? It's my own special blend of crude.

PS. It's no use advising me on what makeup removers to use. They are USELESS. All of them. Every single one. I want MAGIC. Until then, I'll work the party face.

I'll link this up to Patti at Visible Monday, Not Dead Yet Style, and Catherine, #iwillwearwhatilike, Not Dressed as Lamb.

Hope you are having happy days despite everything.