I tried one of those new liquid foundations yesterday on my face. It is supposed to go onto your skin white, and then magically figure out your skin tone and match it perfectly, leaving you with flawless, poreless, impossibly beautiful skin -- according to the commercials anyway. I want that! I'll take it!
I think of my skin as a light color, a bit mottled, but overall not too bad. It's not Nicole Kidman porcelain in reality -- not by a long shot -- but that's the skin I would love to have and mentally, I do. Hey, it's my delusion, I'm allowed! (I'd have to douse myself with white paint every morning to do it, to hide the sun spots, the freckles, et cetera, but if I stay away from mirrors forever, the dream is still in tact.)
I dotted the concealor onto my under eye skin, just like the instructions commanded, and waited for the magic to begin. While I'm blending thoughtfully with my fourth finger, the weakest of the fingers according to beauty experts so as not to stretch the delicate skin, I see a bit of tone evolving.
Here it comes! My skin, only better!!
And I open my eyes to see...
Well, how interesting. Miss Maybelline or whomever suggests not so subtly that I am jaundiced.
If Curious George were here, he would feel right at home. But not only would I have the yellow suit, I would have a yellow face to match. I am a banana.
I have to go find a bilirubin light as quickly as possible before I blend into the fruit bowl.
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