Thanks to my legendary last-minute lifestyle—where I only take things seriously once panic mode is activated—I found myself in yet another why-am-I-like-this situation.
It all started with a competition—too confusing to explain, but the bottom line? I needed to paint my face to match my get-up. Simple enough, right? Wrong. Because, of course, I had zero face paint. Instead, I stood in my college clutching the one thing I did have—an eyeliner.
At this point, my choices were:
1. Accept defeat.
2. Trust in my ability to wing it.
And obviously, I went for option two. So, I ran to my seniors, who, being the chaotic geniuses they are, threw out the craziest ideas that actually worked. Within minutes, my eyeliner had been repurposed into a full-fledged face paint. A few strokes, some improvisation, and a lot of misplaced confidence later—I slayed. The transformation was complete.
But where there’s a masterpiece, there’s also cleanup.
Then came the Georgette Scarf tragedy.
A different friend—let’s call her The Executioner—took it upon herself to remove my "face paint" with nothing but sheer force and a Georgette scarf that felt like sandpaper against a wall. One aggressive wipe and—WHOOSH—not just the eyeliner, but probably a layer of my skin had also vanished. I swear, for a moment, I could feel the breeze where my face used to be.
By the time she was done, my face was redder than my regret. Who needs an exfoliation routine when you have friends like mine?
My takeaway from this? Always have face paint. Or at least, make sure your makeup remover isn’t someone with a vengeance.
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