Recovering from a complete panic-induced break-down I glanced at the mirror as I walked past, and noticed a reflection that was different to the one I usually saw when I walked past. My yellow undertones seemed more pronounced, now that the redness caused by my crying my heart out had faded. The black-brown freckles seemed to stand out even more, and my usually black eyelashes were indistinguishable because they were back to their black/brown see-through colour. My eyes were lined with red, from the intensity of the tears I’d cried, and were even more almond shaped than usual because the puffiness hadn’t died down. I looked at this new reflection, and despite the emotional wreck I had been not too long ago, all I could think of was ‘tears are a great make-up remover’. Not the fact that I had felt like the biggest failure not too long ago, and not that I felt as though my every efforts from now on were useless. No, not that. In all the throbbing of my brain, all I could think was that tears were perfect for washing away make-up. Weird, aren’t I?
And then it dawned on me. The cool and the calm I’d been so elaborately painting onto my face every morning had been stripped away completely, and I was right – ‘tears do make the perfect make-up remover’. If I’d kept painting on my make-up, the implosion of fear would have had a worse impact than the tears that burnt through my make-up face.