Ihave never been much of a one for turning up on the school run with a full face of make-up.
I am in awe of those who manage it and, on the rare occasion that I do, I always feel quite pleased with the achievement. But more often than not I arrive sporting mascara, bronzer and little else.
Except, for the avoidance of doubt and horrific imagery, my clothing.
This can lead to me looking like something that’s been dug up, but the effort involved in applying make-up, when I could be buttering the sandwiches of small children, is just too much for me.
And, if I’m completely honest, I just don’t care enough about leaving the house minus warpaint.
I have friends who wouldn’t dream of doing so, and who look immaculate, but I’m the kind of girl who thinks nothing of putting the recycling bin out while clad in her husband’s 10-year-old dressing gown and a pair of sheep slippers.
In an effort to maintain this laziness over our recent summer holiday, I decided to go one step further, and negate the need for mascara by having some eyelash extensions fitted.
‘Fitted’ sounds like the wrong term – more applicable perhaps to double-glazing or a car alarm. But whatever the word is, it was one of my best decisions this year.
A friend of mine, Charlie, recommended Melissa Jane’s Beauty in Havant. I had no idea of what to expect, and decided to throw in an eyebrow wax, tint, and overlays on my nails.
I set off for a morning of mummy-pampering, and warned my husband that I may need help lifting my eyelids once home.
The experience at Melissa’s tranquil bubble of femininity was heavenly. One minor hiccup occurred when, being keen to secure them places, I decided to answer a call from my daughters’ swim instructor during eyelash fitting.
I had to squint (my eyes were stuck together at this stage), and felt like an extra from A Clockwork Orange.
This led to me making a further fool of myself by blurting out to the instructor that I was laying prone upon a table with my eyes shut, having my lashes extended, and would need to call him back because I couldn’t see.
Life as a mother; one end of the glamour spectrum to the other in the bat of a (false) eyelash.
Verity Lush is a 36-year-old mum-of-two who lives in Portsmouth.
She is a tutor in philosophy, English and maths and has written a book for newly-qualified teachers, plus textbooks and articles for teaching magazines and supplements. Follow her on Twitter @lushnessblog