Holy Rail

Most of you girlies might know what HG is. No? It's Holy Grail. The ultimate makeup whatever in your arsenal of magical illusions.

I have a few HGs since I have to wear makeup so much (literally) and so often. I'm quite an awesome makeup artist myself, a leftover from my days as an artist, I guess. But due to time constraints, I let a makeup artist work on me. 

It's fun and frustrating at the same time. Working with a queen prone to dramatic hysterics is not conducive to pre-performance peace, I tell you. But he's learnt not to push me and to keep quiet at least 30 minutes before show time or risk having an instant sex change.

Still, my idea of HG and his vary greatly.

I like my Korean liquid eyeliner as it has a texture much like latex so it really adheres to the lid through hot stage lights, massive sweats, sometimes tears and even careless rubbing. He hates it. Firstly, because it is hard to obtain and secondly, he hates Korean makeup. He thinks only Mac has makeup, the rest have mockups.

My HG blush is from Christian Dior and I am going to cry like a baby if they ever discontinue it. It's the sweetest shade of light pink with a very slight shimmer that makes me look all girlie and sweet. I like casting that illusion right before I rip some troll's gonads off. Sharm thinks it's too insipid for me and likes the very shimmery, brighter pinks and dusky rose shades that he feels suits my personality more.

For daily wear, I've put on HG probation a shimmery, slightly dusky pink lippy from The Body Shop that looks natural yet has enough colour and bling to brighten the face. He thinks it's boring and likes to splash my lips with bright reds or recently, a hot fuschia. The man was never so happy than when Mac came up with the Barbie collection. He has it all and says it was made for me. Lord help us all.

So as you can see, Sharm likes to derail my Holy Grails. I love the man but he keeps seeing me as this Barbie doll that is the last thing I am. I see myself more of a Tank Girl than Barbie.

The lesson today is ... Never, ever, fall asleep during makeup with this man. 

I seldom make this mistake due to traumatic experiences in the past but I was just so sleepy today. We'd discussed the colours to match the costumes tonight and I let him at it while I read my magazine.

Lesson 1.1 - do not read Cosmopolitan. You know it's boring dribble so why read it? And it puts you to sleep by the 20th page of advertisements before the Editor's Message. Next time, stick to your Vanity Fair. Even the old issues are better.

I fell asleep.

Lesson 1.2 - wake up before you hear someone say, "You're so dead, Sharm."

OK, I have a pet peeve. I hate false eyelashes. Like as much as I hate country & western music. Maybe more.

Egads. The e/s (eyeshadows, lovey) was OK. But what the hell are those spiders on my eyes??!!

He did not! Oh yes, he did! 

The bloody queen put false eyelashes on me! They had to hold me down while he ran screamingly from the room.

I did not have enough time to even rip them off and repair the makeup before I went on. I had to live with it till after the show.

Why the venom towards two little fluttery falsies?

Because they irritate my eyes. I hate the bloody things. They're heavy for one so I always feel sleepy and literally heavy-lidded.

I can't bloody see through them. I'm absent-minded as it is without those handicaps!

I must be allergic to the glues as my eyes start to itch after a while. Enough that I want to scratch my own eyeballs out. 

And the greatest crime ... they make me look like a doll. Literally. 

When I have false eyelashes on, I look like a walking, talking doll. It's ridiculous. No one takes me seriously then. They start talking to me as if I only have 38 words in my vocabulary. They make coochie coochie noises at me. Some suicidal types even try to pinch my cheeks.

Men start acting even more silly than they usually do. Women start treating me like their long lost Barbie dolls and even bimbos try to talk down to me. Children stare and point and say. "Mummy! Doll!"

It's embarrassing and humiliating. It pisses me off.

The indignity of it! To add insult to injury, he gave me falsies with little rhinestones at the ends so I looked like Barbie on Crack. It made me wary of blinking in case I look like a eyelash-fluttering bimbo, which I had to because my eyeballs were now itching like the devil.

So there I am, trying to kill him and everyone's going "Awwww, you're so pretty with those! Flutter them lids, sugar!"

I am so gonna kill him!

Better yet, I am gonna burn his entire false eyelash collection. And put the ashes in his MMU foundation.

Never mess with a pissed off Barbie on Ice.