Can’t Girl For Shit

I am beat. After the last few months of trying to actually be a “Girl” I throw the towel in. I just have my own style which affectionately I suppose my boyfriend has coined “Lil Bish”. Sometimes I manage to glue my false eyelashes on. Sometimes I flick them across the room and admit defeat. Sometimes I blend my eye shadow. Sometimes I look like a panda double in a David Attenborough documentary. Sometimes my style is actually edgy and cool. Sometimes I look homeless. I would describe my style as a Monet. So from a distance I look bloody great, like a 9.5 easily. Maybe. But then when you get close it’s more a 4.

See I watch these ridiculous tutorials and religiously follow Instagram accounts like Huda Beauty and think “Oh My Jesus-Hit me up with that shit that will cost me about 8 hours work for one eye shadow palette”. But then very quickly after then diving into my Primark Powerpuff Girl make up bag and codging a look together with a scraggy Barry M palette and something free I got off the front of Cosmopolitan 4 years ago, I decide that gorgeous Huda palette with exotic sounding colours like “Hummingbird Breath” doesn’t deserve to die in my possession. It hurts me to be this honest.  However let’s not let my boyfriend onto this. I’m trying to convince him I need a trip to House of Fraser beauty department….

Don’t get me wrong-I do love it when I don’t need a filter. And I do love when a contour attempt is successful or I haven’t lost a nail after only having them done for 3 hours or even better when I manage to go a whole day without laddering a pair of tights. But you know what, I love the fact I don’t have to “Girl”. I can chuck my hair up in Space Buns (literally my new favourite hair thing as I can actually do it. Hair skills are shit.), have next to no make-up on and slack about wearing an oversized Kendrick Lamar t-shirt and my Boyfriend’s boxers because he actually seems to really like my face. Which is great, big fan of his enthusiasm.

And you know what, there is nothing  more wholesome than my boyfriend being surprised when I put my face on rather than take it off. Gals, from one sister to another, don’t live a life constantly under illuminating primer, concealer, base coat, banana powder, contour cream, finishing powder, setting spray…. Get your gorgeous faces out there. Ya know, the face that makes you You. Kinda getting a little bit robotically scary how we all look like the same bitch walking down a  high street in our swarms ready to strip beauty counters like a locust plague. Cos if anything else, it’s hella easier and hella cheaper. More money for donuts and lattes.

 

 

 

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