I was just watching this vlog from Laura over at Delicious Diva and I was reminded of a run in that I had a few weeks back.
Now if you have been around here for a while, or to be honest even if you haven't, you may have noticed that I am not the most genteel lady ever to grace God's green earth. I'm not so well versed in the finer points of being a girly girl. Unlike many other areas, on this subject I am also willing to admit just how much I don't know. So, when I found myself facing a weekend were I would have the opportunity to meet not only the esteemed folks of Bizzy (which I am totally all about) but also the very funny Rachel King (Let me shorten that story for you: that encounter is the reason the verb "to fangirl" exists. Smooth move fail.) I figured I should maybe put some effort into not looking like a dang hot mess. Add on top of that a coupon sitting in my inbox from a friend who works for a major beauty retailer and it would seem like we have both a problem and a solution, yes?
Not so much.
Apparently, when I said to the salesgirl "Listen, the last time I bought more than one item of makeup Bill Clinton was President. I know nothing. Mold me into a passable woman." she heard "I have a damn clue." Did you know foundation and concealer are different things? Because I didn't - and it seems you need both of them if you have acne. Also, primer is a different thing entirely. That's not to mention regular or matte finish. And pale, fair, or fairly pale color...yeah, fairly pale...that's a thing. What the hell. There is finishing powder and bronzing powder and blush and mineral veils and 17 other kinds of junk that you can brush, blend, and trowel onto your face to look like a civilized human being. Oh and bee tee dubs, that coupon ain't good for any of it.
I ended up going with some all in one kit that cost far too much for my liking and that I returned the next day before I left for the encounter. You know what I used? My Bill Clinton makeup. And it didn't make a bit of difference because it was 110 degrees and the AC at the bar we were at shit the bed.
I suppose there was some point where I was supposed to have learned all that makeup jazz but really, when was that? I did not get whatever memo was sent with the date and address. I have no sisters. All my friends in high school were dudes or just as clueless as I. My mom maybe?
Oh wait, Dahling still swears by applying powder blue eye shadow directly with her finger. There goes that.
So consider this a preemptive apology to anyone I meet in the near future (and since it looks like I'm headed to the 20sb Summit, there may be quite a few of you). I will look like a hot mess. A hugely hot mess. And you know what, I'm not sorry, because I don't know any better, I know I don't know any better, and you are lucky I (probably) have pants on.
...now if you'll excuse me I have to go make sure the bridge of my glasses still covers my impending unibrow.