PHOTOGRAPH: STOCKSY. FOR STOCKISTS, SEE PAGE 125
I shall never be a perfectionist. I’ve accepted my wonky teeth, patchy eyebrows and sloping lips (and my droopy eyes, while we’re at it). More than accepted, really, as this singular face of mine that greets me every morning has become a dear friend – on the receiving end of every life experience, showing its true colours, unmasked and open.
During my various meetings with industry ‘experts’, I’ve been told that I’d look a great deal better if I had dental surgery (to break and reset my jaw into a symmetrical position), eyebrow tattooing to fill in the bald bits of my left straggler, and lash extensions to lift the outer corners of my hooded eyes… I have nothing against any of the above, and have clutches of family and friends who take great pride and time over their appearance, but the lackadaisical part of me need only hear the word ‘perfect’ to run a mile.