I have one pitfall in life - I mean, I have plenty, but for the sake of my own self-image and dignity, I'm going to keep things singular - and it's the inability to remain reluctant when my will power is questioned and cravings probe. I have really great ideas, like, really great ideas and you know what makes a great idea no longer a great idea? When nothing ever comes of it. And so goes the cycle of my life. The likes of a simple resolution, made annually and collectively; boycotting sugar and it's more successfully deceiving counterparts. It starts well; I suddenly lose all taste for chocolate and send a victory txt to friends, "guys, I just walked down the sweets aisle at the supermarket and I literally felt nauseous thinking about it - is this a new me??", I say "no" to the cheesecake of the day after dinner - potentially influenced by the fact it was passionfruit and I had no inclination for picking seeds out of my teeth in the middle of a restaurant while diners picked up their stemmed merlot - but successes, however small, remain successes. Then I wake up without a sense of motivation and deem the day one for the couch and white chocolate.
I order Dominos only for the spicy chicken wings, the additional pizza, wedges and ranch accompany as only an added bonus while spiking the total for set delivery minimums. Things go smoothly, it's dark outside, the delivery boy has found the place effortlessly and, I think, my flatmate hasn't noticed the obscenity I will consentingly endanger my body with. The pizza lasts a few days, by the third I'm throwing the last couple slices in the bin, the crust's a little too crusty. It's a week since I ordered pizza, I know because my mind practically marks it on a calendar. Yes, I did say this was the last Dominos order I would make for the month, because not only do I not need the box-so-greasy-it-seeps-to-the-glass-of-my-coffee-table to impregnate with it's inevitable food baby and, more impactful, clogged pores, I don't need Dominos, as fair-fellowed as they may seem, to catch on to my increasing habit. I can go without. What's in my fridge/freezer that can satisfy? Nothing. I order Pizza Hut.
I had been out of my beloved NARS Sheer Glow for close to a year, and as unwilling to repurchase as my newly-found unemployed, student and pizza obsessed status made me, one night and an existential crisis later, I set an eight o'clock alarm for the morning with Mecca Cosmetica on my mind. Forgetting that the planned early wake up became an unplanned, but more probable, midday extraction: with little more than the price of the foundation itself in-hand, to Mecca I went and to my hand came my little NARS, long-lost friend. So, I successfully gave up pizza as it unthinkably became the opportunity cost of a trapse to beauty heaven. Well, I did for that week at least.
Sheer Glow is the perfect combination of neither sheer nor glow. It covers but it doesn't conceal. It builds and it doesn't settle. It glows without GLOWING, the type of glow where the aforementioned food baby may be perceived as a result of a different kind of consumption. I powder it, because I powder everything - s/o Hourglass - but hey, it really wouldn't need it. I wear Mont Blanc and if there ever were a shade made with me in mind, I've got it. It's a cult favourite, so the likelihood of you already owning it is high, but any excuse to think about pizza, no?