Some of my earliest memories involve some kind of beauty product. Whether it was a bullet of Heather Shimmer lipstick, a dusting of Collection 2000 powder or a slick of gloopy mascara I'd claimed from my mum's stash, I always loved the ritualistic nature of applying my makeup. There's something quite cathartic about creating a persona or new representation of yourself with just a few simple tools; the beauty of great makeup is that you can be whoever you want to be, no matter what you're actually feeling like beneath the surface. How many times are we told that a touch of lipstick has the transformative power of Clark Kent's glasses, or that all we need to disguise that heavy night is a touch of creamy concealer" Having a portfolio of tools at your disposal doesn't make you any more or less of a woman, nor is it 'false advertising' as so many seem to accuse; I can guarantee you that 99.9% of women apply makeup to feel good about themselves - and they couldn't give a toss about Tom, Dick or Harry's opinion. Anyway, I digress. My point here is that it's absolutely ok to be passionate about makeup or beauty in whichever form you choose to digest it, but it's also absolutely ok to have those days where you say to yourself in the mirror: "I just can't be bothered."
For me, those days are mostly when I'm working from home and have a sh*t-tonne of work to get through, so any unnecessary tasks that take up any valuable time are ignored. If nobody is going to see m...