Twenty-Two
Memory 12
The world had been turned upside-down and inside-out and turned into an Asylum for Daleks presided over by mad Missy and all stuffed inside a Tardis full of dinosaurs.
Or, in Layman’s terms, things were going a bit cuckoo in my world.
I didn’t even own any makeup.
Thankfully, Patience had a tonne of free-with-magazine face-stuff stored in our shared bathroom cabinet, just ripe for sneaky pilfering by love-struck big sisters.
Or, I should say, I would have been able to sneakily pilfer the makeup, had I known what half of it was for.
I had to ask Patience for help.
“Contouring is what the Kardashians do,” she explained, rolling her eyes when it was obvious I had no idea who or what a Kardashian was. “It’s kind of like shading your face,” she said. That I understo
