Make-up mishaps

Writing this blog is weird. Documenting experiences reminds me of other times that I think are worthy of recording [even just for myself!] and, for the first time, I’m really viewing the web as a web. I’ll try not to tangle it too much.

Blogging about my mum's death acting as a life-changing catalyst made me want to share this snippet: 

I dressed and readied her for her funeral. Lots of people warned me against it, but it was something I wanted to do. The undertakers helped with the dressing – a dead weight is so called for a reason and I could never have lifted her by myself.

They left me alone to do her make-up and, gosh, I did an awful job. In the hands of an amateur, make-up doesn’t apply well to cold, rigid skin. Imagine trying to apply it to a semi-defrosted chicken breast. By the end of it she looked a bit like Aunt Sally.

It made me laugh. A lot. An odd sound bouncing around in such sombre surroundings. I reckon she would have laughed a lot too though.