Fun Adventures in Makeup

Makeup is one of the few things I actually do that is relatively femme.  I don't go crazy with it, and keep it incredibly simple compared to what a standard full face would be considered, but I am a bit picky with the products I use.  I'm incredibly determined to stick to the cheap drugstore brands though, because I fully believe they should make a product that fits what I want, since a lot of the time many high end brands will also have products with the same issues some cheaper products do.  And when it comes to things like my eyes, or lips, I have products I love.

However, as I mentioned a bit ago, I'm so fair that face products barely exist that aren't too dark for me.  I have slowly been building a collection of foundations and concealers that are the lightest shade available, and are still too dark on me.  It's a very frustrating thing.

So now, keep that in mind, because we're about to get to some funny stuff.

A few days ago, while filling up my water bottle, my mom calls me into the den, asking me to look at her face.  She says her eyes are red and swollen, and asks if she's having what I dealt with.  I tell her that mine was an eczema breakout, and that it started with a small dry patch and no redness for months.  She pokes at her eye, and says it isn't dry.

I tell her that it isn't what I dealt with then, and ask her how old her mascara is.

She can't answer.

I ask how old her eyeliner is.

She says it's the one I ordered.  I point out that she's been using a different kind, not the one I showed her.

She pauses and says she doesn't know how old it is.

I ask how old her eyeshadow palette was.

She says about twenty years.

I tell her that her makeup has turned.  That she needs to get the bag so we can go through it.

About a half hour later I am looking at something, and she brings her makeup downstairs.

Her makeup is ancient.  At one point, I pull out a foundation, and go to jokingly swatch it.  I think better, and smell it first.  It smells sour.  Her eyeshadow smells rotten.  Most of her makeup smells bad.

She throws out so much stuff that I need to go through my extras in order for her to be able to make a full face.  While she's sitting in the natural light of the dining room, I see that the redness on her eyes is in the exact location and shape of her eyeliner.

Nope, couldn't have possibly been that her makeup was ancient.  Had to be that she was out of nowhere dealing with what I had.

So, anyway, that meant a big trip to the store, and after swatching a million nearly white things, I may have found a foundation and a concealer that are pale enough for me and hopefully don't look like ass on my face.  Sweet fuck, I'm excited.