I have some kind of epiphany each year around my birthday. It has been happening, ooo for at least the last ten years and it involves my skin.
I really should start some kind of anti-ageing regime. That’s what I plan to do each year.
I saw on the Timehop app that three years ago, my mum bought me an under eye gel pen thing to reduce wrinkles and, this week I treated myself to some of that Number 7 serum from Boots-you know the one on the TV advert where the women gasp in surprise at their amazingly youthful looking skin?
I want to gasp at my own transformation.
The truth is, it lasts for a week. If that.
I have such good intentions. I will take my makeup off before bed every night. I will cleanse, tone, moisturise, exfoliate, pluck, you name it, my face will look fabulous at any time of the day or night.
The truth is, I can’t be bothered.
I used the Clinique 3 step usually but only in the morning and, with my impending statutory maternity pay looming, I doubt that will be continuing for much longer.
Plus the bathroom is right next to Boo’s bedroom with the sink right behind her bed so any tap running, sink gurgling, toilet chain flushing must be kept to a strict minimum. To spend even five extra seconds with the tap running could mean a wake up that no parent wants.
If I think of it like this, my rubbish skin care regime is actually making me a better parent.
I may become a wrinkled old hag by the time I hit 40 but Boo will get her beauty sleep so I will live through the gorgeous face of my child.
Someone pass me the cucumber for my eyes. Believe me, I think I am going to need them. A second child is not going to make my skin care regime any better.