Yesterday, as a treat for my upcoming birthday, one of my dear friends arranged a beauty session at a well-known cosmetic counter. I came away feeling glamorous with a bag load of purchases and freebies.
This morning I decided I should start a new beauty regime and duly applied my makeup as instructed by the beauty consultant. Afterwards, I went to my full-length mirror to inspect my work.
By God, Readers! I looked twenty years younger and almost half-decent. I was so thrilled I was ready to pack my bags and go in search of a toyboy. Hurrah, I thought, there’s some life left in the old girl yet!
Then I decided to capture my rare moment of personal glory in a selfie.
Which was a very, very, very, bad idea.
The selfie, sadly, revealed the truth. When I viewed the photo I did not even recognise myself – I had turned from a well-preserved, perhaps even still vaguely attractive woman, into a miserable old hag.
What I am saying is no makeup can hide fifty years of living – I looked like a corpse who’d just slipped on a banana skin.
I’m now thinking of auditioning for the part of the hag in Snow White.
Please God be kind to me over the rest of my life-span. I don’t have many years left. Go easy on me. I’m a good girl really.
Anyway, I’m off out to the builder’s merchants. I need some concrete mix.
*There is no accompanying picture with this blog post as there normally is due to the potential adverse effects on my readership.*
