Spot The Difference

I woke up this morning looking exactly as I did after my first kiss with Dave Taylor. He was in his Farah polyester pants. I was in my C&A uniform. We were 16 and both dressed in 1990's static. That mattered not, what mattered more was that I was left with a snog rash that looked liked he'd tried to eat the outside of my lips with a tooth pick.

Spots around the side of my mouth and chin. I mean what the bloody hell fire?!

Spots are the preserve of my teenage daughters and whilst there are few similarities to applaud between The Teen & The Pauser (other than those ridiculous mood swings!) there are small mercies in this one. They get all of the pimple paraphernalia any face could dream of in the pursuit of zit annihilation. I practically encourage them to put it on their Christmas and Easter List. Chocolate causes spots, spots don't get facebook likes and Zoella so doesn't do skin imperfections... so out with the Cadburys and in with the Clearasil girls. You know it makes sense. To me.

As a teen I regularly turned to that nasty TCP stuff - do you remember it? It had a toxic smell and colour that would make you think you could get the rust off your shopper bike using it. And if it was good enough for that then it would damn sure burn those red babies off. Burn being the operative word.

I thank god for today for make-up and the power of concealer. God knows I'm going through more of it now than I have in the past 10 years.

Rimmel listen up, you should be paying me royalties.