The warm fog from the bathroom diffused through the room as I stepped out from the toilet, the scent of British Rose shower gel and the chalky smell of nicotine permeating through the cold room. Flinging my cupboard doors open, I bit my lip – intensely surveying the hangers of fabrics neatly stacked alongside each other – meticulously arranged from the darkest to the lightest shade.
You’ve always worn black, my subconscious suddenly perked up, with a margarita in her hand.
Take a yellow, she slurped.
I shook my head, as my fingers brushed lightly against the sunflower satin and stretched past it to the velvet olive green wrap dress.
Good choice too. Your assets are going to look amazing, she concluded with a final slurp of her margarita and a loud belch.
Lifting the dress off from the hanger, I set it aside as I grabbed my make-up pouch and plopped myself upon my vanity chair, facing my mirror. My fingers involuntarily reached out to touch my face, slowly running past the uneven skin and acne that had permanent residence on my face. Sighing aloud, I pouted at my reflection.
Last Saturday, you slept with your makeup on after a heavy night of drinking when I told you to at least wipe down your face before you decided to pass out, my subconscious waggled a bony finger at me.
I rolled my eyes at my reflection as I unzipped my makeup bag.
Use the new foundation, it is a good time to use it. He wouldn’t want to be looking at two different shades of brown for the rest of the night, she prompted.
I removed the flimsy paper packaging as I surveyed the brand new bottle, my heart dropping a few notches. Lifting up my brush from the holder, I carefully squeezed out the brown goodness onto the back of my hand as I used my brush to carefully smear it on my face, careful enough to reach my collarbones and even the bottom of my earlobes.
My subconscious was already ripping a packet of chips apart as I proceeded to conceal my face.
You need a new concealer, she reminded as she crunched. She watched me highlight and contour my face, while licking her fingers and smacking her lips.
You need more contour skills, look at your nose. Not even blended proper, she shrieked, spraying chip crumbs.
I paused as I looked up at my reflection. I smiled, showing my pearly whites.
Aw, look at you ! He’s definitely falling, you look gorgeous, she cooed, as I held my liquid liner aloof, lips parted.
No don’t wing it, you suck at that, she prompted as I nodded in agreement and drew on my classic eyeliner look – dark and beautiful. Topping it off with mascara and adding a pop of highlight to my cheekbones and nose, I looked up at my reflection again, a smirk playing at my lips.
Lips, she reminded, as I reached out for the nude ones.
Red, girl. The cheap one, you going to get it ruined tonight anyway, she mocked.
My heart fluttered at the thought of my lipstick rubbed off at the end of the night ; with one final flourish of the wand, I completed my look as I sprayed my face down to lock my art together. I never took my eyes off my reflection as I absentmindedly ran my fingers through my loose curls.
You need to stop worrying, my subconscious placed her hands on her hips and surveyed me sternly.
All these efforts, a date, it will work wouldn’t it? I thought aloud.
If it doesn’t, at least you know you look good, she replied with a smile.
It’s only for a matter of time, I thought as I brushed my hair.
You really like him don’t you? She whispered.
I gulped, as my mind went silent, slipping on the wrap dress.
Do I ? I battled back.
My subconscious started laughing hysterically, tears rolling down her cheeks as she guffawed and clutched her sides.
You are dead, she chortled.
