Mirror-Staring and Mascara Wands

This is the only way to wash your face.

This is the only way to wash your face.

I know none of you was expecting to receive unsolicited beauty advice from a savant such as moi this fine Friday, but I decided my routine was one destined to be chronicled on the internet. No need to thank me, I live for public service.

Our story starts at seven in the morning. I wake with a start, thanks to my alarm, and descend from my lofted bed. This takes a couple minutes because I don’t really want to start off my morning with a five-foot fall and cracked skull. I then eat a bowl of cereal, which doesn’t make me more beautiful, but does make me less hungry – a very important step which is followed by the most important step, Entering the Bathroom.

Once I have turned the lights on and shut the door, I shuffle up to the counter and take a good, long look at my face. I move closer to the mirror to see if I look better from that perspective… nope, not the case. Oh god, that is even worse. But I stay there. I take it in, I accept it, and I proceed to wash my face. With a washcloth. Because any other method is impractical and messy. If nothing else, this makes my face more irritated than it already was which, in turn, makes me irritated, so I turn on some One Direction to brighten my mood. Sadly, this has proven to be very effective.

And this is where it gets exciting: moisturizer. I use Clinique’s Dramatically Different, because that’s what the lady at the counter told me to do, and one of my number one rules is “always listen to ladies at counters.” Anyway, once my face is looking not-so-dramatically-different, I whip out my newly-purchased Neutrogena Skin-Clearing concealer, which is proof that magic is real. I apply this quite liberally and then smirk at my reflection because, let’s be honest, it’s kind of amusing at this point. But then I get down to business with my Nars Sheer Glow foundation, trying to pour a little bit on the back of my hand and usually getting way more than I want. Then I fret over how I’ll be wasting a little bit of that ridiculously expensive skin-colored liquid while blending some of  it onto my face with a brush, which is fun because it’s like painting.

By now, I am feeling much better, so putting on blush is easy for the most part. Sidenote: do keep in mind that between each step of this sacred routine, there is a solid minute of me staring at myself in the mirror to survey my progress. Okay, now it’s time to fill in my eyebrows and curl my eyelashes, which is stupid and dangerous but depressingly necessary. Sometimes I swipe on a little eyeliner, and every time I do this – without fail – I chastise myself for buying eyeliner with glitter in it. I dust some eyeshadow on my lids, keeping it very simple because I don’t trust myself with eye makeup symmetry, and rightly so. Oh, now we have come to my favorite part – mascara. Mascara is so fun! Except when you stab yourself in the eye with the wand, but that rarely happens. I’ll admit I have sort of an unhealthy obsession with my mascara (Tarte’s Lights, Camera, Lashes), but that’s a problem for another day.

Oops, I almost forgot I have hair on my head. It never does what I want anyway, so I usually just flip my hair the bird and suffocate it with a hat.

And there you are, dearest readers. My frustration-filled beauty routine. If you are interested in ACTUAL beauty advice, I’d recommend you go here, here, here, or here. They are some of my favorites.

Happy Friday!

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