Tag Archives: makeup

A Wrinkly Old Bog

Yesterday was Cover Photo Day, woohoo!  It’s exciting to be that much closer to launching Book 15; but on the downside, I had to put on makeup.  Blech.  It was only for a few hours, but it felt like a lot longer.

I’ve always felt a little embarrassed about being on the covers of my own books, but I’m actually pretty happy about it this time around.  With the COVID-19 isolation protocols, I wouldn’t have been able to get the cover done otherwise.  Plus… hell; I might as well admit it:  It feels good because I’m a do-it-yourself freak, a control freak, and several other varieties of freak that are probably better left unmentioned.

But still…

I loathe makeup.  I hate that chalky, sticky, suffocating feeling on my skin.  I hate the greasy flesh-coloured scum it leaves in my sink after I wash it off.  But most of all, I hate the way it falls into my wrinkles and makes my skin look like this:

(No, I’m not going to post a closeup photo of my face. You’re welcome.)

Back in the hazily-remembered days before I had wrinkles, I still didn’t like makeup much; but at least I looked good when I put it on.  These days putting on makeup is like rolling a coat of fresh paint over drywall I should have filled and sanded first:  Every crack and rough spot looks ten times worse.

Plus, my protagonist is aging much more slowly than I am.  If this series keeps going I’ll have to get better at Photoshop.  Much, much better.  As in, “face transplant” better.

Most of the time my wrinkles don’t bother me.  I can’t see my face clearly in the mirror unless I’m wearing reading glasses (which is, frankly, the only humane thing about aging).  More to the point, this is the best I’m going to look for the whole rest of my life.  Might as well relax and enjoy it.

But makeup?  That’s just adding insult to injury.

P.S. Here are a few pretty photos of what’s blooming at our place, to take your mind off wrinkly old bogs (or wrinkly old bags, as the case may be).

Dwarf species tulips and chionodoxa


Heather and grape hyacinths and a couple of late snowdrops


Indoors, a baby pineapple on a plant that Hubby started from the top of a store-bought pineapple we ate.


Can you spot the little viola that decided to self-seed despite the odds?


Here’s a closeup – it’s amazing how these tiny but tough flowers find a way to survive! Kinda puts things in perspective…


A flock of daffodils


…and we woke up to snow this morning. April Fool’s on us!


Book 15 update:  We have a title:  “A Spy For Help”!  The manuscript is out for its final beta and proofreading, and the cover is in progress.  Stay tuned for a blurb and cover reveal in my next post!


Filed under Humour, Life

Making Up Is Hard To Blue

Ah, the festive season.  A time when most women look forward to getting dolled up with glamorous makeup and swanky little cocktail dresses.  (I said swanky, not skanky.  Don’t put words in my mouth.)

I, on the other hand, try to attend only events where I can wear jeans and swill beer in my usual bare-faced comfort.

Once upon a time, I wore makeup.  And by “once upon a time”, I don’t mean, literally, “once”.  I mean there was a time in my life, decades ago, when I actually wore it frequently.  There are many good reasons why I stopped wearing it.  Here’s one of them.

Blue eyeshadow was fashionable when I was in junior high school.  I was a geeky kid.  The eyeshadow package had instructions.  What could possibly go wrong?

My younger sister was involved in a school Christmas concert.  Mom had to be there early to help out, and Dad was to bring me along later, in time for the actual performance.

Feeling very grown-up, I decided to wear my new eyeshadow.  The package contained two shades of vivid blue.  I read the instructions carefully.  They said something like, “Apply darker shade on eyelid and blend lighter shade up to brow bone”.

This confused me.  I thought eyeshadow was supposed to go on the eyelids.  My brow bone seemed a helluva long way up there.

I spent a short time puzzling over the exact definition of “brow bone”, but I didn’t think there was a hidden meaning.  I seem to recall actually looking it up in the encyclopedia to make sure I’d gotten it right (I told you I was a geek).  No alternate definitions for “brow bone”.

Little did I know that researching “brow bone” was the wrong approach.  I should have researched the word “blend”.  Or maybe looked in a fashion magazine to see how the real makeup artists did it, though that’s an iffy proposition at best.

Cheerfully oblivious to better judgement, I smeared blue eyeshadow all the way up to my eyebrows.

Dad made no comment, and off we went.

We arrived in the already dimmed auditorium and found seats.  Just before the show began, my mother arrived to join us.  I distinctly remember the look of horror on her face, but I can’t remember exactly what she said.  The gist of her reaction was, “You let her go out looking like that?!?”

To which Dad replied with his usual honesty, “It all looks awful to me.  I couldn’t tell the difference.”

I’d like to say I learned my lesson that night and always applied my makeup tastefully from then on.  Sadly, however, photographic evidence suggests otherwise.  I respectfully submit that I may have been the main reason behind blue eyeshadow’s subsequent decline in popularity.  Don’t say I never did anything for you.

These days, I only wear makeup when I’m having pictures taken, which mercifully only happens once every few years.  I wear the makeup for exactly long enough to have the picture taken, and then I immediately go home and scrub it all off.

Earth tones only.  Never, ever blue eyeshadow.


Filed under Humour