Today I left the hospital for a couple of hours. It was not only amazing to be outside and not in a room painted entirely white, but I took the opportunity to do a bit of retail therapy. I spent far too much money… *cough*
But I remembered something that I forgot a long time ago. Spending the last six months in pyjamas with my hair scraped up (because I used the time as a way to grow out the notoriously tricky pixie cut) made the knowledge work its way out of my system. The knowledge that… Make up helps.
I never wore it a lot, but I have always liked treating myself to a little bit of good quality cosmetics now and again. It’s nice. It’s a chance to be what you want to be. Like any feminist; I do find it sad that so many girls hide behind their foundation, scraping on the war paint like a sacred ritual. But as someone who’s current favoured method of hiding involves a duvet and a sleep mask that reads “F*ck Off”- make up is a whole lot healthier.
I treated myself to a nice eye shadow and easy-application eyeliner which unfortunately resembles a Stanley knife. It has been the cause of confusion for more than one nurse as they jump to conclusions and… Discover the tip is silicone. I don’t think it looks too shabby on even with my glasses off. I suppose the challenge is to break the old habits and get a new face on my bad days now…
So tonight has been a rough night on the unit. Bathrooms have flooded, people have runaway and the police have been in. But instead of getting stressed I have applied and reapplied my new eyeliner. Focus. Focus. Focus.