Stuff to Put on Your Face When You Are Sad
Am I the only person who has wondered why humans react to emotional distress by having their faces basically explode into an extreme histamine reaction of snot and tears? I mean, how is that supposed to aid in survival or whatever? Evolution, riddle me this! While Darwinism has yet to breed out crying and I happen to be a platinum member of the crying club (seriously, I'll cry at things that are not even sad, like small animals in a too-small container of sorts but also who isn't moved by such a thing?) I've developed a soothing and beneficial go-to batch of things that probably won't really address a sad thing but are fun to put on your skin mostly.
Why not make your face the texture of the smoothest porcelain for which your tears to elegantly tumble down? Some people call this "self-care" but I've discovered that it's more appropriate to call a spade a spade of displaced productivity. Besides, being sad looks much better on a nice face (I use the phrase "nice face" more conceptually than like... a face that you think is nice btw).
Anyway. Here's Wonderwall.
A winged liner look is the lazy way to make it look like your eyes are smiling when they may not be at all. After all, it's all in the eyes or something, right? Don't I look so un-sad?
A sheet mask is like the Mrs. Doubtfire pie-in-the-face-as-disguise equivalent of pretty much anything. The science behind this is that when you change/block out eyebrows your whole facial features become way murkier to recognize. So people won't even know what you're feeling — or if you're some serial knifer like in the movies. This Tonymoly Master Lab Snail Mucin sheet mask is extra-extra because not only all the other stuff I just said, but it says on the packaging: INTENSIVE DAMAGE CARE so you're pretty much covered for anything from a stubbed toe to an oops-I-just-invoked-the-apocalypse boo-boo. It's less than $5 and you'll be damaged controlled as well as muy moisturized (AKA Muysturized™). Extra extra-extra.
Look, everyone is on to you once your put on those fake glasses with the eyes on them. They know you don't wear glasses. But they don't know that you probably wear contacts (or not). I don't, but nobody would be able to tell! With these clever neutral-expression "contacts" it's like I'm on the level all the time, never blinking, always focused, so on my game.
A rich moisturizer is a rich moisturizer is a thick moisturizer, and honestly ever since I've tried the ritziest of the ritz (that would be Cle De Peau's La Creme — so rich, its name is what it is because there can be only one because after you buy it you'll be too broke to buy any other cremes), I tally all luxury emollients thusly. The CDP, while very delightful to behold, I realized contained all sorts of generic occlusives engineered for that luxurious texture, but not necessarily for a whole lot of skin-fancying. Luxury is an experience, not a product, so I've learned.
But as for one lookwhaticando feature — Glossier's Rich Priming Moisturizer is so thick (ahem, rich) that it defies gravity. Wouldn't budge, no way no how even with me recklessly dangling it over my computer keyboard thusly. If you're game to try the $35 "crème luxueuse" I'll give you the Cliffnotes version of rubbing this on your mug:
WHAM, you're about to be assaulted with a whole lotta lavender smell. Hate lavender? Too bad because it'll hug your senses like the E just kicked in. I've read that it's a subtle scent but those are lies — the scent is strong with this one. I happen to not hate lavender but its ubiquity is making me realize that it's like the Frankie Say Relax of essential oils.
Team G omitted a tiny spatula scoop with this one because their in-house research found that most people just chuck them, and they're not wrong. But they also posted a story somewhat recently about how much money they made with investors, which struck me as kinda tacky? I mean, transparency is currency these days especially when you've got stuff to sell, but I don't need to see your literal receipts, it's fine, you're already established as a trusted and celebrated beauty source. Either way, it just made me wonder "Sooo you got all this money and you couldn't just throw in a tiny plastic spoon to make people happy and really appreciate how luxuriously comprehensive this sort of redundant face cream is?" Don't get me wrong — I way prefer this one to the OG Priming moisturizer, actually. It's buttery, melts right in, leaves a demi-matte finish and seems to fill in all your nooks and crannies. It's a nice cream. I have lots of nice creams though. But this is nice too. Honestly, if you want a cream to do something drastic, that's a fool's errand because all that good juice is in serums — there's too much emollient filler in creams for the stuff to really get down with your skin cells the way serums can. But if you like luxury... get yourself a luxury cream. It's as simple as that.
I had issues with the OG PM burning my eyes after a while of use (??) so I threw it in a drawer. Now that one would be a perfect saddening product — it literally produced tears from me! But this one makes me less weepy, so so far so good.
Last resort: glitter. Big ol' glitters. I don't know what it is about such a crude and childish and potentially blinding thing, but for whatever reason, wearing glitter on my face is an instant perk-up. I can't help but giggle at my reflection every time I catch it and then immediately feel silly. It's like laughing at a poop joke, all Oh ha HA, very funny... but kinda, yeah, it's funny. Oh and you can use the Rich Priming Moisturizer to tack the glitter to your face. Circles back around! Swoosh!