Kissed By The Sun . . . and then some

makeup brushes, makeup, brushes-1761648.jpg

I have been using the same kind of make-up for years.

It’s a powder-based brand that somehow sticks to your face.

It’s very subtle and does just enough to cover up all the horrible wrinkles and eye bags and rosacea that hide underneath.

It is also a brand that you need a “subscription” for. In other words, you get on the subscription list, give them your credit card information and then every other month they replenish your supply.

It’s a wonderful arrangement. Just when you start to realize that you are running out, more arrives in the mail.

It’s wonderful, until you forget that your credit card expired and you have a new card with a new number.

And then you forgot to tell the make-up people.

It was already far too late in the game when I realized my mistake. The containers were running dangerously low and I realized my beloved mineral/powder make-up subscription was messed up because they no longer had my current credit information.

Alas, I was super busy and time was not on my side.

Time is never on my side.

In a hurried attempt to get online and order my makeup again, there was a “bargain deal” on the same line of product so I went that direction. The only issue was that I would have to order it every month, but I was also saving quite a bit of money.

So the order was placed and shortly thereafter I happily discovered a box of make-up in the mailbox, just as God intended.

When I opened it, however, I realized the box held containers I did not recognize.

Yes, this was a knock-off brand . . . which would explain why it was cheaper.

But, oh well, I reasoned, it was still mineral/powder make-up and it was here.

I noticed this new line had all sorts of colorful names for their little versions of cover-up product. One is called “Glimmering Night,” and another is “Blissfully Blush.”

Oh, and there’s a big ol’ container of something called “Kissed By The Sun.”

Yes, it’s all a little too happy for me, but I decided to go with it.

So that first morning with the new make-up, I was tiredly going through the morning routine. I reached for the container I thought held the last of my original foundation. I stuck the brush in and whirled it around. Then, something on the morning news coming from the television in the other room caught my attention.

Without a thought, I went about applying the mineral foundation to my face while I walked to the other room and watched the news story. I kept applying while I went to the kitchen for a cup of coffee.

See, I’ve been doing this so long I don’t even have to look in the mirror. The make-up is so benign in color that you really can’t screw it up. After all, this was just the foundation.

I sat down the container and the brush when I returned to the bathroom and started to get dressed. That’s when my reflection in the mirror caught my eye.

“What the ***?” I yelped as I grabbed a hold of the sink and stared at the great disaster.

And then I turned to the container of carnage I had been utilizing.

That’s when I realized this was not my regular foundation but rather the big ol’ container of “Kissed By The Sun.” I assume this was supposed to be used as a light blush on your cheeks, maybe a little highlight for some crafty contouring.

But certainly, this brazen, red, glittery concoction was not intended for an entire face.

What looked back at me from the mirror was nothing that looked like being Kissed By The Sun. It looked like I walked on the sun, burned off all my skin, sprayed it with acid, covered it in glue and then sprinkled it with fairy dust, confetti and sequins.

My face was bright red, bronze, shiny, sparkly and fiery all at the same time.

I grabbed a towel and started feverishly rubbing my face to try to get it off. Somehow, that Kissed by the Sun took a good hold to the moisturizer underneath and the places I was able to rub it free just turned bright red because my skin was irritated.

I rubbed here, I rubbed there, I had splotches, I had wear.

I knew my only alternative was to wash it all off and start over again . . . but I had an appointment in a mere five minutes and there was no time.

And no choices.

I grabbed a brush and tried to smooth out the Kissed by the Sun. I tried to mix old make-up with the new. I tried to blot it with some old loose powder that had been too pale for my complexion in order to tone it down. I tried to add more eye make-up to try to balance it out. I even went a different route with lipstick to try to make this whole make-up disaster make sense.

When my time ran out, so did my patience.

There was make-up all over the sink, all over the vanity, all over my clothes.

I hurried up and changed, again, and ran a few more layers of paleness over the Kissed by the Sun train wreck.

I had to leave, I had to live with what I’d done.

I went on with my business and got to work.

The first person I encountered, who is a good friend, said, “Hey, I don’t know what it is, but your make-up looks really good today!”

And all I could do was laugh.

“What?” she asked, laughing back. “It’s not supposed to?”

Of course, I had to tell her of my disastrous Kiss By The Sun morning . . . and I had to thank her for what I guess was a genuine comment.

Seeing how I got her approval, despite the layers of all kinds of blush, and powder, and foundation, and moisturizer, and liners, and God knows what else . . . I was tempted to at least try to figure out how to properly used Kissed By The Sun.

But the second time around, I just dabbed a tiny bit on the end of a little brush and then I barely touched it to my cheeks and just a hint on the forehead.

I called it a day. Enough of the bronzing. Enough with the attempts at contouring.

And enough of being “Kissed By The Sun,” or in my case “Ravaged By Redness.”

 

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