An ode to Vaseline

I was a little bit late yesterday, mew, but I hope you enjoyed HQHair. That place will see me bankrupt…

I really wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to write about Vaseline though.
Honestly, I was sat in bed a couple on nights ago, thinking about all the millions of things we put on our skins in the hopes of fending off the evil wrinkle fairy and I realised the only constant on there, the only thing I come back to again and again, is Vaseline.


I don’t know about you but it turns out I’ve got a bit of a reliance on the old stalwart. There’s the wee little tub for my lips and cuticles on my dressing table, I carry one of the mini tins (so cute!) in my handbag for on the go lip lovin’ and emergency skin smoothing and I think we’ve all been guilty of the ‘smear it on your lashes for a mascara style look without the mascara!
Doesn’t work for me, I just get gloop in my contact lenses.

At uni, one of my (male) flatmates took some severe abuse when we busted him with a massive vat of Vaseline in his room but it turned out he smeared his shins and knees in it before he played football to stop his delicate skin from chapping (that was his story anyway and I was happy to believe it).

And when I’m out of Bliss Softening Socks or Sandal Scandal, I do tend to smother my heels in Vaseline, kick back, put on Slap Her, She’s French and let the good old petroleum jelly do it’s worst.

And for helping my heels not look like Mumm-Ra the Ever Living, Vaseline, I salute you.

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