Tantrum Warehouse
Tact Free Since 2003

Look Out Tammy Faye

Bought myself a big ol' bucket of stuff from Sephora. Courtesy of Jdad's birthday gift to me. Crazy, smokey, inconsiderate but oh so generous father-in-law.

I am so excited. I am not much of a girly girl. I wear all black clothes, don't wear dresses, don't like scrapbooking or stamping or any other crafts. Babies squee me out a bit. I loathe candle parties. I like baseball and hockey and eating with my fingers. I can kick anyone's ass in a belching contest.

But makeup. Now that is worth being girly over.

Love the lovely makeup. I have pale pale skin and blonde hair. If you stand me in front of an off-white wall I just fade away. No distinct features. Nothing.

Makeup can fix all that.

Of course when you are ghost-girl it is easy to make yourself up too much. In fact you can make yourself look like a Jersey City hooker very easily.

Not that I have ever done this.

Makeup artists are evil and never to be listened too. They always make me look like Tammy Faye gone bad.

I was handicapped in learning the skills. My sister. Is a fan of the heavy-handed look. When she still lived at my parents' house it took her an hour to do her makeup. To go to the grocery store.

My mother only wears lipstick. Hot pink lipstick. With bare face everywhere else. Attractive. I bought her her first facial moisturizer a couple of weeks ago. Because she was smearing Jergens on her face and got acne. Can't imagine why.

So I have figured out a look that works for me. You can see my face but I still look like me.

Of course that may change when my Sephora goodies arrive. Look out Tammy Faye.

6:17 p.m. :: comment ::
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