In the comments of yesterday's post on what right and proper things I would do if I was the elected queen of the world (banish yummie drummies, make foundation prescription-only for the under 21s, make hair brushing mandatory etc), Becks confessed "when I was young I didn’t know you could get foundation in different colours." Oh dear.
In fairness now I am typing this post with the most chipped fingernails you'll ever see, but that doesn't really bother me. I just lie to myself and pretend it's all rawwwk chick and therefore cool.
We've touched on the subject of beauty bloopers before when we offered Minister Brian Lenihan a dig-out with our proposed Tanning Levy (he's yet to respond to our calls - funny, that), but lets confess all for a bit of Friday fun - what awful crimes against style and gorgeousness have you committed?
I'll go first - I was obsessed with having a whiter-than-white face as a gothy 15-year-old. I was convinced I had super-high colouring (I don't) so every application of thick Rimmel powder would be preceeded with lashings and lashings of Green Cream (No7, I think). The net result was I looked ill. All the time. Eventually Aphrodite and the Beaut.ie mammy wrested it from me and threw it out when I was in school one day.
Family, if I didn't thank you then, I thank you now.
So c'mon - this is your virtual confession booth. No one will stand in judgement and there will be no penance or Hail Marys at the end of your confession. Dish!