Last week, while writing about how I make too much effort to not be a girl, and take too much misplaced pride in not being one, I decided that I really oughta replace my old and possibly rotten makeup, because- well, it goes near my eyes and mouth, and I don't want to be using chemicals I bought before I graduated on those areas.
So, yesterday, Bing helped me fix this, and took me to a special American makeup store! Which sells only makeup, it's amazing.
There was only the most minimal of minimalist panic attacks:
"Oh god, too many foundations! They all look the same! How do I know what I'm buying! Aaaaaagh!"
"Ask for help."
"Um um um...OK!"
I then proceeded to grab the nearest woman who offered help, only to realise as she was selling me foundation that she actually looked like she started about a centimetre below surface, and that I did not want to look like the woman who was giving me advice on how to look good.
ANYWAY, I overcame that because otherwise I would continue to use the make up I found in the Union after Retribution back in the third year, and I used up Traveller's Cheques that had been sitting in my bedside table since - well, since Utah, I think. So it's not been in my bank account for years and therefore isn't real money.
Living with my brain is fun sometimes. See how I, who am living on £(3digits) a month, can happily justify spending over $100 on makeup? Shut up, now I will look pretty the next time I need to look pretty. Whenever that is.