The Surprise Visitor

While I'm waiting for my white blood cells to grow a pair (metaphorically and literally also, in which case more than a pair would be even better thanks), I've noticed an increase in several homely occurrences.

1: Cat puking incidents.
Are they allergic to me? Is there in fact no change but I don't discover it if I'm not there to witness. In which case where is it? Not sure I want to think about that too much...

2: Teenage Angst.
This is because of all the extra vapid thinking time I suppose. But no decision goes unscathed. example: friends round last night. Thai delivery or Busaba take out? (Some of you may have experienced the thrilling debate on Twitter). The decision lay with me, it took no less than 8 tweets, 1 DM, and 9 text messages, before I decided that someone else had better make the decision.

3: Unexpected Visitors.
Ah, now, herein lies the problem. I'm not great with these at the best of times. Living in London arouses suspicion when the buzzer goes unexpectedly - Jehovah's Witnesses? Crazed murderers? Ex-boyfriends in which case this outfit will not do and I don't have makeup on.

But bald and in PJ's at 3pm? Shuddering nightmare... DadJokes has been fielding neighbourly requests for tin openers, or ASOS couriers, but he does have to go to work too.  Normally I ignore the door, but in the case of (I later discovered) new neighbour Steve from upstairs, I could be seen doing chores through the window and my TV could be heard in the living room, so I had no choice but to put on trusted bobble hat and open door. Sweaty from chores, zero makeup, or hair obviously, and in said woolly hat in 26 degrees. And I had to sort of slouch my shoulders forward to try and minimise the zero-bra-thin-tshirt-factor. This situation was uncomfortable to say the least. Nice guy though...

So, I have developed, with the help of my trusty makeup and hours of trial and error, a 'Ready For Knocks' trick, that basically means I look much less, well, cancerous, but doesn't involve the usual mascara on lashes battle (lashes? ha!), and actually doesn't even look like I'm wearing makeup. Its like Jennifer Anniston for bald people. And I can even be bothered to do it everyday, just in case, which is really saying something.

So here's where I'm at: Lash count, maybe 4 or 5 stubs on the top lid. Which buckle under the gargantuan weight of mascara.
Brow count: precisely 3 on one, 2 on the other. Long ones too. Ridiculous.

Here's what I'm doing.

Skin: Nothing. I'm staying in all day, if there's one bonus to that its letting my skin have days off makeup. This is a no makeup makeup remember...

Brows: I use Lancome Le Crayon Sourcils Pro in Brun Cuvre, just because its more wishy washy than my usual going out Dior one, so I don't have to be precise, just scribble it on and brush it through and then sort of dot it with my fingers so it looks worn in. I'm not wearing other makeup basically, so properly 'done' brows would look weird. But here's the good bit. Since I have no natural shape to follow, I can go Kylie and give myself a mini face lift with a slight over-arch. I discovered the need after dinner with my mum when she said I looked angry with no eyebrows. Strange but true. (if you need a tip, mine is don't literally draw an arch, I normally do a straight diagonal line up, then a straight line down, with a 3:1 length ratio, just make the 'up' line ever so slightly longer for a higher arch). So, eye-lifting, happy-looking arch in place...

Eyes: I'm using Topshop Bold Liner in Graphite, it's ltd ed, but 'London' by Nars is close, which is a foggy grey. I reckon this works on any skin or hair colour, black or brown is too much with no other makeup, this is the colour of a shadow, which is perfect. Draw a line inside the lower lash line, and then, and this is a bit tricky, inside the top one too. Drawing along lash line looks like eyeshadow, but inside just does a weird thing to define your eyes but not look like makeup. It's genius, even though I say so myself, which yes, does make me a genius...

That's it. 30 seconds (bet Jennifer Anniston takes longer), doesn't need makeup remover to come off even, and lasts a whole day of sitting around waiting for knocks at doors.

Now I have a few weeks worth of fluffy head too, this trick is making me feel OK to ditch the bobble hat for the summer. Sort of. Wig angel Claire is coming round tonight with "Two special guests. Ooo who could they be...?" So I'm ready; no makeup makeup on, actual clothes in place of PJ's and my hat, on standby, next to the front door. They'd better be worth the extra laundry...

Me v's My Lashes - The Battle Ain't Over

But, sad to say, I think I may be losing. There were several hints, first and most obvious - vastly fewer lashes. This isn't as blatant as it seems; apparently you can lose up to 50% of head hair without anyone noticing. I assume this is also the case for eyelashes, since I was counting 4 or 5 on my cheeks every time I veeery tentatively removed any makeup, but everyone else said, 'ooh, have you gone for false lashes then?' (that'll be the RapidLash).

This becomes even more indisputable when I go to put on mascara. With no barrier of natural lashes to buffer the blackness, I frequently turn up to meetings with an up-all-night-doing-who-knows-what smudge to the lash line. Which I don't entirely hate.

It's the constant weeping that gets me now. Any little gust of wind - in fact it doesn't have to be weather related- it could be someone waiving an invoice in my general direction, will have me trickling tears and ruining my carefully corrected smudge application within seconds. Who knew eyelashes were so biologically important? Needless to say crying of any kind is not helpful for the norm-seeking cancer sufferer. 'oh my GOD, are you OK?' Oh, thaat. No eyelashes.'

On the upside, you know how all the books say people love you more if they think you think they're funny (this is how I got DadJokes). I rejoice in how cute it is to see the delight in my friends faces when I can't control my tears of 'laughter' at their 'hilarity'. What selective memories these people have. Still, if it gets me more love, then I can forgo some lashes.

In a bid to conquer the Avril Lavigne smudge effect though, I'll trust in makeup. Up till now my old faithful liquid eyeliner has been working wonders. Applied right it can pretty much cheat lashes anyway, since it does what the real things do - elongate the eye, define it, make flicky shapes at the edges, but I'm finding it a bit boring doing the same thing everyday, plus I think a little off balanced having fewer and fewer bottom lashes - didn't think I'd miss these ones as much!

So a happy accident on another mad rush for the taxi man before work: trusted eyeliner flick, badly applied, had to come off (CAREFULLY - my remaining lashes are PRECIOUS). Rooting through back-up makeup kit for a bit of black Kohl, which I never wear, I could only find embarrassingly 80's blue.

So now I am reunited with my old experimental friend, Nars Eyeliner in Blue Lotus. Where once I'd smudged it along my top lashes, made it into a slightly too electric smoke (hence relegation to the back up kit), This is now the PERFECT extra definition for bottom lashes only. Black would be too hard, brown too dull (colour is only ever a good thing for me these days), and drawn right along the inside rim, I don't even need the liquid flick on the top lashes. Plus, the magic of colour means my eyes look more, well, colourful. (Someone said ginger recently - ginger eyes? at least I have appropriate hair to match).

For now at least, the battle continues. When I feel the need for falsies, I'll report back, but for now, even 5 or 6 measly hangers on, mascara'd with some Blue Lotus Nars or liquid liner, gives enough of an illusion of lashes that even my iphone camera is fooled. Seriously, there is hardly any hair here. The tissues are a testament to that.

p.s. Thanks to lovely Helen in the office who maybe found my invoice induced crying a bit too much and left the kind gift above on my desk.