it's quite amazing that after 2 weeks of extreme sleeplessness and stress and 4 nights of heavy makeup, my face hasn't turned into a replica of the surface of prehistoric Earth (as it usually would even in milder circumstances of stress). in fact, and on the assumption that i'm not hallucinating from sleep deprivation, it's actually looking, er, better.
two possible factors, methinks - (i) an anti-acne-n-acne-marks natural-oil-n-vitamin-E thingy peddled by a clever salesman* at the warehouse sale of a particular pharmacy which i purchased (read: 50% discount); and/or (ii) the plethora of shiseido products used on our measly mugs** by the team of professional make-up artists for merry widow. the cleanser, the moisturizer, the pre-make-up base, the foundation, and finally (as the guy with the loudhailer screams down the corridor 'GET DOWNSTAIRS IN TEN MINUTES!') the colours. the painstakingly applied pre-pre-pre layers probably either nourished the skin [gawd i sound like a beauty product ad] and/or protected the skin from attacks from foreign particles which clog the pores and fester into organic volcanoes [on second thoughts, i don't think i should write beauty product ads]. which, coupled with the time spent applying each stratum, also did a pretty good job of keeping the colours from running.
then again, it could just be delayed reaction.
the calm before the storm.
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* side rambling - wonder whether any member of the female sex has ever been offended with a query as to whether she is looking for something to make her face look less frightening. risky job in a way, ain't it, especially for those poor fools who have to shove a slimming brochure in your face on your way to lunch, asking you whether you would like to go on a diet.
** no, i didn't mean to say that you're ugly. please don't sue me.
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