Firstly let me introduce myself, my name is Meg I'm a 3rd year Creative Writing student wasting my last 6 months of student life hoping everything will be ok after I've achieved the statuatory 3rd class BA. I'm obsessive, slightly compulsive, vain, bitchy, with vague leanings towards depression/schizophrenia and OCD. What a big barrel of laughs I hear you cry? Well actually after consuming my own weight in Malibu I'm not adverse to a little slutty dancing and have been told 'I'm a laugh'.
I also happen to work for Benefit cosmetics, where the F stands for FUN (if you choose to believe what the slightly scary Area Manager tells you). To be fair the job in itself isn't too bad, I spend my weekends happily shoving whatever crap people want to try onto their faces, our main aim at the moment to combat dull 'winter skin' with brightening face primer (It takes you from dull to darling with one quick application!) and to sell glittery shimmery 'Christmas makeup'. I realise I use a lot of quote marks, but phrases such as 'Christmas makeup' deserve them, what actually is Christmas makeup after all? What is it about this time of year that makes people, not just people mind you but fully grown adult women, feel it is appropriate to dress as a fairy? Nothing, and covering your ageing skin in enough shimmer to blind someone with sensitive corneas does not, I repeat not, make you look like the svelte toned women of your youth, no matter how hard you try.
Today after applying enough makeup to conceal the remnants of a hangover and vaguely tidying my counter I was presented with a sash, a deep purple silk sash with a lilac ruffled edge. Oh, and the words 'Miss Popularity' stamped down the front. Sexy. This alongside the gold sparkly headache inducing tiara I must wear for the whole Christmas season made me look, well, like a twat. I guess whoever dreamed up this idea had visions of us Benebabes being overjoyed at dress up time, willing donning our sashes and crowns and rubbing vaseline on our teeth to give our customers a big shiny smile, clearly this would sell products.
I guess the markerting directors sitting in their heated offices laughing over a Terrys chocolate orange have never suffered the humiliation of a crowd of school children pointing and laughing asking what makes me 'Miss Popularity'. Or had a rather alarming looking middle aged man, run his eyes up and down said sash and congratulate you on being popular.
What really concerns me is that I have at least another 2 days of being Miss Popularity, do you think crying about my emotional insecurity or mentioning how my social inadequancies mean I just can't wear this label will work? Hopefully, failing that I'll just burn the fucker.