Got an early train home today and found myself inside a mobile beauty parlour. There was a girl across the aisle giving herself a full manicure, complete with three coats of toxic fumes. I tried not to watch where the cuticle clippings and file dust went [shudder].
The girl opposite was extremely pretty, with a very natural and fresh look. She spent the next hour painting, lining and blending. Then she teased her previously sleek dark hair to twice its original volume. By the time she had finished, she just looked like an average girl that had to paint herself a pretty face. Wonder if her daddy knows she keeps about £100 of makeup hidden in her bag to put on when she leaves the house.
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About Me
- Constance
- Until recently, I was a constant commuter, travelling 5 hours per day on public transportation. Good job in one city, great family in a another. Riding on the train provides a weird little snapshot of Britishness. I hope you enjoy my musings.
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