I’m at that point in life where I consider brushing my hair as making an effort, so you can imagine my ongoing disgruntlement over the fact that I don’t awaken each morning looking like a glowing, charmingly freckled, incredibly wealthy, fresh faced, Blake Lively. Due to unfortunate circumstances known as genetics, my face doesn’t do that. Nor do I wake up next to Ryan Reynolds. Not that I would even want to [never] [not even one time] [why would you] [he probably has bad breath].
Anyway, point being, either I put make up on or I look homeless and three years deep in a drug addiction; there is no in between.
So whilst I would like to be one of those #blessed women who can just splash some water on their naturally dewy face, slick on some paw paw lip balm and be ready to face another day in a fur trimmed puffer vest and ankle booties, I am not that person. I’m that person who goes out without any make up on and has to respond to every second person saying “you look tired” or “are you sick?” or “can I just check your bag before you leave the store?”
That being said, I do, however, attempt to reserve make up for the times that I’m going out and might see someone I know.
I live in Adelaide, so that’s every time I go out.
So, in my four and a half years as a mum of, now, three delightful and yet time sucking small humans, I have devised a fail safe, daily [twice a week max] makeup routine.
Because even though mum life isn’t pretty sometimes, it doesn’t mean I can’t be. [scoff scoff] [yes it does].
Hide from children in the bathroom.
Note: this also works reasonably effectively as “hiding from husband” and can buy a good seven to ten minutes for checking Facebook and/or Instagram “I just need to do a poo” [no I don’t].
Image via iStock.
Get hair out of face by roughly putting it up in a messy bun. I can fix it later. [I won’t].
Note: I’ve owned roughly about 7000 bobby pins in my life. How many do I have now? Four. I have four.
Wash off the remnants of yesterday’s makeup that I didn’t take off last night before I collapsed into my pillow face first and fell asleep listening to NCIS on the TV which is apparently on every night now.
Remember a time long long ago in a faraway place before baby wipes doubled as makeup remover and briefly lament the fact that spit cleaning my own mascara from under my eyes is not only a viable option for me but a daily occurrence.