Make Me Up Before You Go-Go

I’ve been gripped by the icy hand of reality – if I go for a make-up lesson next Sunday then I shall have to arrive sans make-up – which in itself is not a problem, I do often go bare-faced – but… well, how am I really going to feel when I’m sitting under the scrutiny of a stranger and in the middle of a busy store to boot with my far, far less than perfect complexion shining forth?

I have always, always had poor skin. Except when I was a teenager, oddly enough.

It has been almost the sole reason for my poor self-esteem since I can remember (anything else is down to my huge arse), and it’s no laughing matter to see your face in every photograph marred by horrible, ugly acne. Next to my gorgeous friends I could always see the difference: that they were beautiful and I was not.

As it is now my skin has improved tenfold thanks to the Pill and so has my self-image but there will always be the ugly girl inside me, ready to break through at any point – and she frequently does.

I hate the idea of comparing myself to others. Envy is an ugly, harmful thing to the person feeling it – and I have no time for it.

I want to wish everyone well, for I have my special moments too – and we can’t all be perfect. Yet, when I stand next to some people I feel my soul die.

Which brings me back to this make-up shebang – can I really stomach it? Will the poor girl assigned to ‘doing me up’ run screaming when she sees me naked (facially)?

I know it’s self-indulgent to fret about things like this, and I’m darn lucky to have my health: two eyes, a nose, a mouth – but is it normal to look in the mirror and see someone so hideously ugly one day – and normal the next.

I think the answer here is yes. And I’m just a normal girl…

Posing 101 - With Lindsay Lohan

These pictures just crack me up.

In other news, the Benefit make-up lesson is booked for a week's time - actually the day before we fly to Thailand - so expect an enthusiastic Before and After!

Where Have All The Cowboys Gone?

Yeehah!

Spot On

Some girls dream of Brad Pitt, George Clooney, that fit one out of Step Up with the stupid name.
I wake up from my slumber all rosy cheeked and sheepish, because I've been making out with Simon Pegg.

Go figure.

If I remember correctly we were both cops and the sexual tension was out of this world and then finally right before I woke - We. Got. It. On.

Oh yeah!

Well, I have just been to see Hot Fuzz - and Shaun of the Dead was on the telly the other night - so methinks I'm having Pegg Overload.

Not that I mind, I like a geeky boy as much as the next girl - and I love me some Pegg action.

Anyway, somewhere half-way through the dream he went and had it off with Dawn Swann from EastEnders, so the romance was hardly destined for success.

In other news, tomorrow I have a date with a beautiful girl (Fragglehump) and I have the most mahoosive spot on my nose. Can you believe that?

I fail to leave the house for nearly a week at a time and have the skin of a newborn - and as soon as I make plans my face decides to halt me with a fresh outcrop of hideousness.

Hmpf.

Right, got lots and lots to do today so I'm off.

Laterz.

Beauty, Redefined

This afternoon I was inspired to go and have a look at Jpg Magazine's Beauty Redefined project (which just happens to be sponsored by The Suicide Girls).

For those not familiar, the SGs are described thusly: "a throwback to the glamourous pin-up days, the models are beautifully imperfect, artistically bent emo, goth and punk rockers".

And while I am not about to start wearing pvc, I do believe in their message.

Beauty Refined says: "Every generation redefines what is beautiful, but ours has taken it to a whole new level. This theme invites you to throw out traditional notions of beauty and start over from scratch, redefining beauty for yourself."

Subsequently, whilst browsing I submitted my own image - not in the belief that I am beautiful - but just to join in the movement.

I know that every person out there has something beautiful about them, whether they fit the size zero, blonde hair, blue-eyed mould or not.

I, for one, certainly do not and I'm finally getting to grips with that.

(BTW, you can vote for me here, you know, if you want to - if you don't then that's cool too.)

Incidently, I chose this image because it is the one photograph of myself that I actually love. I'm not sure why!

New Scientist

I feel creativity oozing from my pores this morning.

I can't put my finger on it but I think I'll be busy this evening, doing something.

I like myself when I feel like this - it's a Fuck the world kind of feeling. Quite often I feel as though the lifestyle of a crazed scientist might suit me, a life where I don't have to speak to people all that often and my best friends are the objects surrounding me.

Is this something that should worry me, or an altogether healthy feeling?

In other news, I am enjoying in a strange, twisted way the feeling of being thrifty. As someone who is currently in the throws of searching for a job (damn you world), I have to be careful with any currency that comes into my posession, and this means forsaking the posh brands I once coveted for economic brands.

Benefit for Barry M. Clinique for Collection 2000. MAC for Max Factor (though even MF is too dear for my poor pocket these days)... You get the picture.

But the funny thing is, I am enjoying it. Supermarket brands are actually usually quite wonderful and I feel a little bit virtuous about myself.

Gone are the days I'd spend £22 on a blusher.

I am reborn!