the prettiest star

Laugh now, but one day we'll be in charge.

Tuesday, March 29

My body's determination for me to never have sex again.

There are some people that seem to go through life faultlessly, everything runs smooth for them, no glitches. Then there are people like me whose life is really just lots of embarassing situations and misunderstandings. I'm not talking about the big stuff, I mean the way that life runs from day to day. Sometimes I wonder about the stuff that goes on with me, and really, you couldn't make it up. Last night was one of those times.

My body gave up on me in spectacular fashion.

Or I should say my face.

I am the kind of person whose skin tends to be fairly normal. I clean it and moisturise it every morning and night, I always take my make-up off before bed and occasionally treat it to a facial. I keep it happy. And what do I get in return? I had some kind of skin crisis yesterday.

I woke up yesterday morning and my infected eye looked kinda red and swollen, but that wasn't a big deal, that can be sorted with make-up. But my face! I washed it and it kinda went all flaky, so I spent all day drinking water and plumping it with my Mum's Creme de la Mer. Didn't work. My skin just turned red, blotchy and really sensitive. I was supposed to be going to the pub with my friends (including hot kisser James) and I started to panic. The one time I find a nice guy and my face falls apart. Cool.

I tried putting my foundation on. Now I previously thought that Mac can solve anything, but no. I tried to rub it in and my skin just went horrible, I looked like I had scales. I started to cry. Eventually I was saved by Clarin's Beauty Flash Balm (good stuff) and my make-up went on fine. I looked I had put it on with a trowel, but no-one seemed to notice.

Why would my face do this to me? Honestly, there is always something. It might seem trivial to some people, but really did I have to rebuild my facial structure with clown make-up yesterday?

I know everyone is talking about dating and stuff right now, but what's the point of even trying when a simple act like putting your make-up can't be done?

It's like my body has a vendetta against me. NO! I will not be going on any dates, I will not have sex for the third fucking time this year. NO! I will not go out and enjoy myself, no way. NO! Don't even think about hot kisses against walls. Instead my eye will look like a grape, I will have to hold my face together with my Mum's collection of anti-aging creams, and meanwhile my body will do the one last crime against me- it will forget how to have sex.