The Red Weals Are Back In Town

Guess who just got back today? Did you guess, “Them wild-eyed weals that’d been away”? Correct! Damn, but you’re good… Yep, the red weals are back, and their return serves to prove the theory I’ve been nurturing for a few weeks now: it was the Touche Eclat what did it. Death and serious illness aside, this is just about the worst news possible for me.

See, I’d had my suspicions about the Touche Eclat for a while. Well, mainly since the point where I stopped using it to see if the weals would vanish, and they did. I think I knew the truth even then, but I didn’t want to admit it to myself. So, rather than break up completely, Touche Eclat and I took a break. I told myself that, of course, I could use Touche Eclat if I wanted to: I just didn’t want to, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Except, of course, there totally was something wrong with that, and I realised what that something was on Tuesday night, when I went for my first wedding dress fitting. (Yeah, more about that later…)

As I stood there, gazing at my reflection in the mirror, you see, I did not see the face of a blushing bride-to-be staring back at me. No, what I saw was more like the face of a woman with seven article assignments, 55 blog posts and assorted other bits of work to do by the weekend. The face of a woman who clearly hadn’t seen the sun in quite some time, and who also? Had obviously applied her eyeshadow under her eyes rather than on the lids. The face of a woman, in other words, who was badly in need of a few layers of Touche Eclat. Seriously, it was Halloween, and I’m amazed the dressmaker didn’t just send me away with a bag of candy when she seen me…

Well, Wednesday morning came. I looked at Touche Eclat, all shiny and gold and perfect. It looked at me, all pale and eye-baggy and STRESSED. “Let’s give it one more shot,” I said, “Just you and me. For old times sake. Love me again, Yves, love me!”

Yves St. Laurent does not love me. Well, maybe he does, who knows, (Yves, if you’re reading this? Send me stuff. Note: not Touche Eclat, though.) but one thing’s for sure: his Touche Eclat most definitely does not. (Neither does his Faux Cils mascara, but that’s beside the point). I woke up yesterday morning with the red weals firmly reinstated under my eyes, just as red and as unlovely as ever. They’re gone now, of course, and now that their mortal enemy has been outed, I think we’ve probably seen the last of them. I am gutted, though. Gutted. I don’t think I’ll ever see its like again. I will never find a concealer to equal it. On the plus side, of course, I’ll be able to smuggle a whole load of stuff onto the plane in my eye bags when we go on honeymoon next year, but even so…

A sad day, indeed.