Amazing Disappearing Wife

Today I had the privilege of hauling self out of bed to go back to school for an inservice training. Sometimes inservice is like volunteering to tour the eighth circle of hell, but this morning’s was pretty good. Stuff I can use, even.

Since DH and DS were out doing boy things when I called to say I was finished, I hied myself to the mall. Walked. Matched paint samples for my lovely neighbor. Then decided to get a makeover.

I must confess here that I have never been a girly girl. I do okay with hair and makeup, but I am definitely a low-maintenance female when it comes to cosmetics and “product.” Less is more. But once you cross the “new thirty” barrier, you wonder if your look is calcified into 1992, so off to Prescriptives you go. In my case, that is. The gal in the black T-shirt looked more approachable than the lab coat at Clinique or the terribly fashionable pair at Shiseido.

We spend an hour matching foundation colors (Yellow-orange for my skin? I look like death on toast in orange clothes!!), playing with eye shadow, and setting my makeup with their totally cool magic powder, which feels like water going on. Then, eight hours after I left, it’s back home to my live-in Fashion Cop, aka DH, to get the final seal of approval.

Thumbs down. He hates it. As in, “Where did my wife go?” “Spackle” was mentioned (He is so exaggerating. She did a great job.) So much for my great foray into expensive, “I’m worth $38 foundation, right?” territory. Back to the drug store. Anyone have any suggestions?