Scaredy Cat

I'll admit it, I am scared of those elegant women at the make-up counters of department stores.  Their sheer elegance, flawlessly made up faces and terrific hairstyles make me cringe.  I envy anyone with the self confidence needed to sit down in the public eye so to speak and have a makeover performed on them.

I once got trapped into having a makeover of sorts or at least of trying out some new make-up.  I was prowling as inconspicuously as I could at my favourite cosmetics counter when an assistant pounced on me.  'Can I help you?' she purred and then on my mumbling something about 'just looking at some make-up', she produced a tube with lightning speed and suggested I try it.  Before I could gather what few wits I have, I found myself seated in a chair with the assistant applying make-up and advising me at the same time on what to do about my red and dry skin, all of which could be helped by one cream apparently.  When I looked in the mirror I had to admit that there was a general improvement and I was persuaded to buy the moisturizing cream to help my "little skin problem" as she put it.  In the end I bought the new foundation and also the magic cream, both excellent products I hasten to add, but way above my modest budget.  I know it's worth paying for quality cosmetics but having had to economize all my life, I always feel a bit guilty spending a lot on myself.

Looking back I have to admit that the encounter with the assistant was not guaranteed to boost my morale.  She was pleasant but very impersonal and in a discreet way she was pushy.  That's her job and I am not carping at it.  I am only saying that even though I felt good with the results of her labours, I also felt that I must have looked a wreck before she took me in hand.  But that's more down to me than to the sales assistant.  I know lots of women who love having makeovers and don't care if the whole stores looks on.  I even know one or two who will ask to try different things or reject the assistant's suggestions, something I wouldn't have the courage to do.

So if I'm inspecting a cosmetics counter I will still keep a wary eye out for any approaching assistant and I will move on before she can make me over. But I think I've matured enough to know that in the long run, no one can make you feel good except yourself and not all the lavish attention of a beauty expert is going to change that.  Kind of reassuring, isn't it?