I bought a lipstick yesterday.

It wasn't an impulsive buy; I have been haunting the Bloom cosmetic counter for absolutely ages (the last three weeks). So frequent a browser that the ladies have stopped asking whether I needed help at all. I was trying to decide on the one and only shade that I will get and with an eye for making it the shade I will use for the next ten years or so.

I am neurotic that way. Make a good choice now, and I won't have to bother choosing another colour for a very long time. Well, barring discontinuation of the colour, or the closure of the company. Bleah. I seem to make it a habit of choosing some cosmetic and the nice folk at the counter will tell me that is the last stock of that particular perfume/eyeshadow/etc that they have.

In any case, I preened in front of the mirror (on and off for three weeks) they provided and came up with the shade Tangerine. It was a toss-up between Cosmopolitan, Kiss Kiss and that. Teehee.

I picked it because it was the closest match to my natural lip colour on a good day. A pale orangey pink. I seem to recall that I used to have very pale frosted pink lips, but that was before I got horribly sun burnt lips and they turned brown for 6 months or so before settling into the current shade that I am now. Bleah. Enough of sob stories. And yes, I am vain. Virgos are.

In any case, I decided to try it on today and I grew upset to find no discernible enhancement to my face. Lipstick is supposed to do enhance and draw attention to one's lips, if you believe what they write in women's magazines. I was frantic for twenty minutes and kept scrubbing the lip colour off and reapplying it, before I remembered that it was supposed to look like my natural lip colour.

I felt like the biggest fool in the world.

Maybe I should have bought the lip gloss instead. At least shiny lips would have cued me to differentiate from "made-up" to "natural".

Sheesh.

Speaking of vain Virgos, Fatboy's a Virgo too. It would account for his horrible characteristics.

And I put the blame for my outbreak of acne two years ago on the BF. I get an outbreak only when he's around. Bleah. And it takes my skin absolutely ages to recover each time, and it never fully recovers. Boohoohoo.

I'm scarred, terribly scarred, for life! BF, if you are reading this, I insist that you adopt proper skin care for my sake. Or you can forget about kissing me. I refuse to be party to any more bacterium from you.

So there. The ugly Virgo strikes again. No wonder Virgos are not universally liked.