labellementeuse | (no subject)

Every time I walk past a Lush shop, I feel like the most ridiculous sort of girly-girl. I have in the past happily washed with Budget shampoo and conditioner, I've never dyed my hair, I cut it about once a year and blowdry every twelvth of never, I don't own moisturiser or any kind of hand or foot cream and as far as skincare goes I have a gel cleanser I never use. I do use liquid soap and I do try for something that smells good and I have been using the same type of shampoo and conditioner for nearly two years now, but that's the extent of my investment in the girly luxuries. I'm just way too lazy for anything else.

But Lush absolutely destroys me. For a very long time, for various reasons, I had almost no sense of smell. That got fixed a few years back, but for awhile in there Lush products were some of the few really great smells I could, well, smell. Now that I can actually smell them properly? oh my god take me now.

That said! Sometimes, my favourite thing about Lush is what you can tell about the people who buy them. For example, my mother just bought me two samples of Wow Wow mask, a big pot of Coconut and Almond Smoothie (which smells more like peanut butter Jelly Bellies to me, but hey), a tub of Marilyn (chamomile designed to smooth your hair and, with regular use, make it lighter; smells like beeswax. So yummy.), a bar of the citrus-y Happy, and one of You Snap the Whip.

From which I deduce! My mother wants me to be more assertive (I'm not sure you get much more assertive than me), have more "wow", be more happy, and... be like Marilyn Monroe. Which, I don't know, suicidal and married to Arthur Miller? Good call, mum. However, it all smells so great I don't really give a damn.

My life for the past few days has been defined by a sort of... temporal dislocation. When my dad came to pick me up on Thursday, it was the 28th of September. However, as related elsewhere, I was operating under the impression it was the 28th of October - the day before his birthday, so I baked him a birthday cake. The cake was damn good, mind you, but: "Isn't it your birthday tomorrow? ... no? ... It's not October?"

Then today I realised that it's not the last week of lectures! No, that's next week! This is excellent news.