The Sisterhood of Smudged Make-Up. And Skirts Tucked Into Stockings.

The other night I got home and realised that I had eyeshadow smeared down the side of my eye. I don't know how long it had been that way, for all I know, it was all night. I'd been out socialising, and as far as I was concerned I spent the night looking like I had a partial black eye. Hawt or what?

And just the other day at work I caught sight of my face in the mirror. My lipstick had done a neat lick up the side so I looked not dissimilar to the Joker. How long for? I don't know.

Pair this with the fact that a few weeks ago I was sitting at my desk, went to stand up and realised that my dress was tucked into my stockings. I'd just walked through the whole office, up the stairs of the main entrance, and back to my desk. How visible were my knickers? I don't know.

The question is: why didn't anyone tell me I looked like a massive goober? Why people, why?

I always make a point of telling people (subtly) if they have lipstick on their teeth, or their mascara has run, or even tucking tags in for them, simply because it's embarrassing going back to the mirror and discovering you look dishevelled. Or have your dress tucked into your knickers. And that you walked. All. Through. The. Office and the foyer, and everywhere this way. Gulp.

So this is my point, why don't we have a sisterhood of smudged make-up? I solemnly pledge and promise that I will tell my sisters if things have gone awry in the interests of not looking like me, a goober, in public.

image via here