Picture it.

I'm standing in the downstairs bathroom. The girls are happily ensconced in pretty moving pictures - Backyardigans, princesses or Rascall Flatts, to be sure. Sean is showering, the animals are eating, coffee is set. And I, my friends, am free to primp. Inspired by my 30 Day Challenge I am going to put on make-up.
I have on a magnificent white t-shirt from the Banana Republic Outlet. It is that perfect mix of thin and stretchy, makes every curve look perfect. It'll probably only last a few washes, but today, perfect.

I take a tube of sunscreen, add a little bit of light foundation to it and apply it to my face. I can hear the glamorous woman at the Macy's make-up counter in my head, "See, just a little bit of color to even your skin tone." I pencil on a bit of eyeliner, dust a bit of shadow, couple swipes of mascara and I'm done. I feel on top of the world for taking the time for myself. I

I check the mirror.

A bit of mascara is smeared on my eyelid, the shadow looks more Vegas than office and my shirt, my glorious, crisp white shirt is stained. Splatters of barely beige foundation all along the v of the neck.

Damnit.
Breathe.
Be calm.
I give a listen, Sean is still showering and the girls are quiet.
No worries, I'll dab it away.
Dab, dab, dab.

Check again.

Barely beige, indeed. I can hardly see it, but perhaps that's because of the big ass glob of mascara on my shoulder.

Damnit.
Breathe.
Dab some more.

The mascara is gone, the foundation barely visible, but I feel the telltale prickling of sweat. I reach out to grab deodorant and my waist presses against the counter. Soaked. My pants have sucked up every last bit of water sitting on the counter. Within seconds the entire length of my spine is damp with sweat and the front of my shirt is wrinkled.

The dog barks.
Briar calls for me.
The cat wraps himself around my leg.
I grab a towel to blot my pants and I knock my make-up case into the toilet.

I think I hear the Macy's make-up lady laughing.