chest binding and how to avoid peeing yourself in public

Ah, internet. A constant source of amusement and rage. I was scrolling through Instagram today and saw something that instantly made me get very. fucking. shrill.

I cannot believe people are still releasing tutorials on how to bind your chest with Ace bandages or, and I pause for you to wince, duct tape.

Are you kids trying to kill me?

As Tyra Banks once said, when my grandmother yells like this it’s because she loves me.

First off, I feel you. For whatever reason, you want your chest to be flatter and that doesn’t necessarily mean you’re trans. I gotcha.

But I cannot express enough how bad an idea binding with Ace bandages or duct tape is. Let me paint you a picture.

for the avoidance of doubt. no.

You’re in work or school, feeling good, looking sharp. The bandages are kinda tight but that’s how it works right? You can’t eat very much or drink much but that’s also more than fine.

Then you have to run to catch a door before it closes. After climbing stairs. And fuck, isn’t it hot today? It’s fine, just catch your breath.

Except you can’t because if you use bandages, the only way they work is to CONSTRICT YOUR LUNGS. As soon as you can’t take that first breath, your body starts to panic, creating a vicious cycle which ends up with you passing out on the floor in public.

Do you know some people piss themselves when they faint? Do you want to be the person who finds that out in public?

Oh, don’t worry, people around will help! They’re going to loosen your clothing and try to help your airflow and… what the fuck is that, Carol? Is that… duct tape? Shit. What a weirdo. Fuck, is that piss?

… what’s that smell Carol?

Honestly, that’s not even the worse case scenario. If you move too fast then there is a real chance your bindings are going to just… snap loose. Boom. Hello Titty City.

boob boom

I’m not trying to be mean but I know that telling you homemade bindings are bad for you won’t work. Loads of things that are necessary to survive are bad for you when you’re queer and maybe young or maybe poor.

So I won’t tell you about the cracked ribs or the permenant spinal issues. I’m just going to leave you with the picture of you, lying unconscious on the floor, covered in piss while fucking Carol stares at your chest.

There are loads of binder swap groups, but if you’re looking to buy here is my advice.

1. Don’t size down, you’ll kill yourself trying to get it off. In fact, I am shocked more people don’t die struggling to get a binder off or GOD FORBID, pull it on after a shower.

via https://oddsocket.deviantart.com (ears are optional)

2. How to put this delicately. If you’re American or European, buy American or European. Those Chinese eBay bargains make great dolls clothes.

3. Don’t bind when it’s hot, don’t bind when you sleep, don’t bind when you exercise. Two of these run the risk of public pissing and dude, yah have to let your skin breathe sometimes so why not do it at night.

4. Hand wash them, don’t be lazy son

5. Set expectations. I cannot stress this enough. Dolly can’t be Shane. You have to be fine with that.

I can highly recommend gc2b.com. Nope, not cheap like those itchy eBay knockoffs but guaranteed not to cause uncontrollable public urinaton.

Don’t hurt yourself, is what I’m saying. Be good to yourself and the meat suit you have to wear. It’s hard, I know, but you can’t be awesome and do amazing things if you’re the dude who pissed themselves in church.

#testingbutchface (reviews) · skincare

“when you want to smell like a gun” – magnetic face mask – review 

I’ve found it. The butchiest face mask in the world. Like, if I was famous, this is the product I would advertise, not because it’s super effective but because it is so. on. brand.

Picture the scene. 

I walk out of a car repair shop, wiping my hands on a dirty rag and not smiling because that’s for girls. Cut to the bathroom, where I sneer at the fruity scented masks, possibly clearing them off the shelf into the garbage bin with one almighty swoop. I can do that because I have biceps in this reality and the white tank top I’m wearing proves it.

I proudly replace all the nice pretty bottles with one black box and the tag line rolls.

For when you want your face to smell like a gun.


This should be the next super bowl commercial.

Magnetic face masks are all over YouTube and IG right now and I have zero willpower so I bought this cheap one from Amazon. Yes, it was 3am. Yes, whiskey was involved. You know me so well.

It’s a weird texture and painting it on is more like frosting a cupcake. But then, oh my gosh. You cover the magnet with a tissue and hold it over your skin. Please see the video below.




I’m not a huge fan of bubble masks as I think it feels like tiny spiders racing over my skin. But this is so pleasant! Nicely tickly and just mmm, yes. Like when someone scratches your neck or touches your ears. *dies*

Fun fact, I have super sensitive ears, like my Da. When my parents were arguing my Dad would cover his ears and shout NO NO NO, because if he didn’t, Sneaky Mam would rub them and therefore win the argument. Sneaky, sneaky.

this is so pretty

The mask comes off really easily which is actually sad because I want that sensation to last forever.

And afterwards, your face smells like a gun.


It smells like car parts and blood and pennies and while you might not enjoy that, I found it enchanting. There is an oily residue which you’re supposed to massage in, or in my case, run around yelling SMELL MY FACE I SMELL SO WEIRD.

It doesn’t vaccum your pores or any nonsense like that, but it feels really good. Yah, it’s skintertainment and not for pros. But I get tired of the retinols that smell like chemotherapy and the essences that blur into a watery puddle in my memory. It’s so… adult and sometimes I want to play.

This is so much fun and I loved using it. Butch recommended!


when something is better than nothing 

The world is a scary place today. Our leaders and “leaders” don’t seem to be afraid but I am. Every time something like the horrific terrorist event at Charlottesville happens we say never again. I post pictures, say a prayer and press like on the hashtags.

But it doesn’t change anything.

There are amazing people who are working to change our world. One of those organisations is the Southern Law Poverty Centre.

 These are good people and wildly underfunded.

Organisations like this are the ones that will save us. I don’t feel hyperbolic about this. We are in danger, and if you are a POC, queer, a woman, disabled, Jewish, Muslim, Sikh, Hindu or anything that isn’t what the alt.right class as acceptable, that goes double for you.

So, what can I do? Money is tight to say the least. I’d love to just donate £1000 to the SPLC but I can’t.

So. This is what I’m doing.

My entire collection, minus those I have already opened or marked for giveaways. 68. Spread out they nearly cover a super king bed.

Please take a minute to visit my page here.

I am asking for £5 per raffle entry. I’ll cover shipping, wherever you are. Over the next few days I’ll take some better photos. Sixty eight. Jesus.

If you don’t want to enter, awesome! If you could donate £1 that would be also awesome. If you don’t want to register via the site let me know and we can work something out via PayPal.

If you can, please share this. I cried packing up my collection, that’s how much I love them. But I am fine to let them go if we raise money and do our little thing to stop the hate growing. It’s a fire and it’s out of control. I can’t bear the idea of losing them and raising no money. So please, share where you can.

Love, K x

askrestingbutchface · skincare

answering questions makes me feel important – the camping edition

The internet is super weird, dudes. (I don’t mean the actual infrastructure, although that’s really weird and also, taking care of it is my like, life choice career so if you have questions about that, hit me up.)

What was I saying. Oh, yeah! So, weirdly, people ask me questions… like I’m the sort of person who has her shit together and isn’t currently lying naked in bed eating sugar snap peas and watching my Best Of Hannah Hart YouTube playlist.

do you die?

Seeing as I am working on special and hard things right now I thought I would answer some of these questions! For a cheerful change!

“Do you know anything about camping skincare? It all goes crazy in here: spots, redness, puffy eyes, cream goes on weird…”

Yes! My advice is, don’t go camping.

this WILL happen to you

I have been camping twice, under extreme duress. It was unpleasant, not just for me but everyone around me because I was so, so, deeply awful. I just think we worked very hard, as people, to evolve to a state where we don’t sleep on the ground outside. So why go back to that? It’s backwards. Also, cannibals will get you.

fuck you rtd, also i love you ianto jones

But if you HAVE TO go camping this is what I would do.

1. SPF the fuck out of your face. Cos camping happens outside and that’s where the sun lives. The more you know.

2. Make sure you use clean water to double cleanse your face. If water is low, well, one of your companions needs to take one for the team and die of thirst. Sorry. 

3. Yeah, double cleaning. Cos the outside is gross and you’re gonna be gross and sweaty. Plus you’re sunscreening, yes? Yeah you are.

4. Oh my god I hate being sweaty. Bring a mist or some canned water to spritz your face and if people laugh at your basic bitchery, make sure they sleep closest to the tent flaps so the cannibals get them first.

5. Insect repellent will fuck your face up. When you’re camping, so many things want to eat your face! I really like this, it makes you nice and soft and really repells insects without smelling like Agent Orange.

avon original skin so soft dry oil. currently better than half price on avon.co.uk at £2.25!

I hope this is helpful and I hope nothing eats you.

#testingbutchface (reviews) · skincare

terrible things i do drunk, part 3847

Dudes, if you thought I learnt my lesson after the Charlotte Tilbury sheet mask horror story, well. You need to lower your expectations immediately.

See, Sober Me read this amazing, well written and thoughtful throw down of the Hanacure All In One Facial. Sober Me winced. Sober Me took Queen T‘s advice onboard and moved on.

But Drunk Me. What a dick.

Drunk Me was watching Whip It, again and thinking that Drew Barrymore would LOVE ME IF SHE KNEW ME. That led to looking at Drew’s Instagram, which led that drunk asshole to this picture.

drew would never lie to me

Yes! The EXACT SAME PICTURE Queen T used, except I didn’t think, shit, there’s that shitty mask I read a review about, I thought… I love you, Drew, and I always will.

The next day I checked my email and I’d bought the Hanacure starter pack for $29 (ONE USE!) plus international shipping. Oh, and I spent £14 on customs charges as they overstated the value on the package.

Firstly, I don’t think anything you do or say at 3.13am should be legally binding. Secondly, this company are horrible to get hold of. I emailed them asking how to cancel (a dick move but! 3.13am!) and never got a response. I emailed when my package was marked as delivered but I didn’t have it. No response. I’d email them about the fact they marked the package too high and I had to pay additional customs but even I know when I’m beat.

Then, as usual, I made it worse.

Note – I don’t have super sensitive skin. You’re supposed to mix up the vial and the little pot, then spread the curdled mixture on your face with the little brush. Leave it for thirty minutes, boom.

thats not much for $29

Except I had to safe word out after twenty minutes. Let’s just get this over with.

yes i do wear sunglasses in bed when its damnass early

My skin is not perfect in the first picture. It certainly wouldn’t be the picture posted by most beauty/skincare bloggers. But it’s okay.

The after pictures are not okay.

I am too vain to post the picture I sent my IG crew privately the next day but it is a train wreck. I look like a sunburnt, shiny cross between Lindsay Logan’s mugshots and a lizard. With zits.

Are you fucking KIDDING ME.

Okay, yes, I only have myself to blame. But this product right here is everything I hate about the skincare industry.

1. Overly expensive – $29 IS THREE HOURS PAY FOR THE AVERAGE FAST FOOD WORKER. Before taxes. I am actually disgusted with myself.

2. Hyped to fuck – yes, Drew, I’m mad. But call me, let’s talk it out.

3. Shit customer service – reply to your email. There you go, that’s advice from someone who has worked in client management all her career. Reply to your damn email instead of posting celebrity pictures to Instagram.

4. It hurts and they warn you it will. That’s like dating someone who looks at you from under their eyelashes and murmurs, “I’m not good with relationships… I break a lot of hearts”. You should not be charmed by their honesty. They are telling you they will hurt you. Listen to them, put your underwear on and go home!

5. Nothing about this product is luxe or fun. NOTHING.

6. Most importantly… it doesn’t work, dudes. My skin is fucked up. And don’t tell me it’s purging, because I know more about purging than a lonely girl at boarding school.

If it’s 3.13am where you are and you’re four cocktails down, googling mindlessly until you stumble over my little filth pit of the internet… hello, friend. Don’t buy this. Not because it’s expensive and you have no money, but because it’s self harm in a box. You deserve better. Trust me.

#testingbutchface (reviews) · skincare

lacura mud mask – glamglow dupe or jar o’ poop?

Hi, I’m a child. Hehe. Poop.

Cards on the table, I am not a Glamglow fan. It strikes me as overpriced and, well, vulgar. Showy, you know? All fur coat, no knickers. Fur coat being Instagram likes, knickers being effective ingredients.

So when these headlines caught my eye, I sighed and decided today was a Getting Dressed Day. For anyone who doesn’t know, Aldi is a discount supermarket chain with an… eclectic range. I like it, it’s like a mad jumble sale every week. An element of surprise and bargains on 5lb cans of pickled cabbage.

apologies for the terrible pictures. some staging issues, shall we say

The glamglow youthmud costs £49-ish in the UK and the Lacura comes in at a very solid £5.99. Scent is nothing offensive or extraordinary, just Generic Spa. Texture is legit, with this cute brush that comes in the box.

Seeing as this mask was only released today (scoop!) I was a tiny bit nervous about being the canary in the coal mine. I swear, the internet has reduced all my decision-making skills to zero. 

Ingredients look… well, see for yourself.

Cosdna Lacura

Cosdna Glamglow
And now I see why Glamglow irritated my skin so much. Ouch. The Lacura has some issues too, like what the fuck is 2-bromo-2-nitropropane-1,3-diol

But I also don’t see £40-worth of difference. However I did spend most science lessons smoking behind the library so please correct me if I’m wrong.

I used this mask tonight and you know what? I really liked it.

i always post the prettiest pictures of myself online

Warning, like Glamglow, this tingles. Very assertively. Oh, and don’t get it in your eye, you amateur! You will want to die. Trust me.

Is it a “facial in a jar”? No. That’s impossible. But my skin is hyper-exfoliated without being a red blotchy mess and a couple of dark patches are definitely lighter. I’ll need to moisturise like a boss to avoid my lizard skin wailing in horror but, overall? I am very impressed.

Now please excuse me, I have a 5lb can of pickled cabbage nearing expiry to get on with.

me me me me me

sasha likes my hair – text only 

(This is a text only post as I don’t want to use a funny picture or a snarky quotation. It’s terribly self-indulgent, but, this is the internet right? I wanted to write it down before I forget)



I sometimes make bad choices. And by sometimes, I mean frequently to always. If you give me the choice between something easy and something hard that will probably be a disaster… well, I’ll take B for $300 Alex. I get bored really fast and easy means boring to me. I know, so obnoxious.

Bad choices were made yesterday involving cinnamon whisky. I realised at 5pm, having only just had the courage to shower (the water was, like, so loud…) that I was supposed to be having my hair cut in an hour. 

I whined to my friends, who told me not to be precious and get on with it. This was the correct response. I am a feral child.

New barber and I wasn’t thrilled.

1. No razor cut

2. No evening out of my neckline

3. If I say, “grade two fading to grade four”, I think that indicates I know what I’m talking about, no? I didn’t mutter, “a trim, I guess?”. This is not a two fade to four. 

Oh, and I accidentally wore a see through shirt. Yeah. Believe me, sitting in front of a mirror, staring at your hungover face and exposed flesh is bad. Sitting there while a birthday party rages outside, to the chant of “21 and past it, 21 and past it”… well. It is a certain sort of hell.

I took about three thousand selfies on the way home, to confirm my first impressions. This is a bad hair cut. I have bad hair. I like having good hair. Good hair is my thing, like other people have being reliable or knowing how to make small talk.

“This is terrible”

“I can’t leave the house again, ever”

“I’m an idiot”

“I’m an idiot with bad hair”

“I’m an idiot with bad hair and lizard eyes and OH GOD I CANT COPE”.

(I never said I wasn’t overly dramatic)

I was quietly listing everything that was wrong about me as I fumbled for my keys in the hallway of my block of flats. This took some time as a) it’s a long list and b) WHERE ARE MY BASTARD KEYS (another thing to add to the list, being disorganised).

Being trapped in my own self indulgent loathing, I didn’t see her coming. I never had a chance. A weight hit me behind the knees and I nearly fell flat on my face.

Sasha had arrived.

Sasha is six or seven years old. I don’t know her mother well because uh, it’s London and we only talk to neighbours in times of crisis. She’s friendly and always amused by her daughter, in an quietly exhausted way. I like her.

Sasha doesn’t really speak words as such, due to some challenges she has but she does chatter. She likes to rub her cheek on my knee and look up at me with an expression I can only describe as, “oh, you’re here. At last. I’ve waited so long”.

She’s done this since the first time we met, by the way. And I don’t really scream I AM CHILD FRIENDLY. But Sasha doesn’t care. She just loves.

(Sidenote, I know there is an unhelpful and damaging stereotype about people with Downs Syndrome being “angels” or somehow nicer than everyone else. I understand this is not actually helpful and reduces people to a simple charicature. I do think Sasha would be Sasha with or without Downs Syndrome. She is pure joy)

I chatted to Sasha and admired her new cornrows, kneeling down to find the candy I carry around in case I see her.

There was a noise. Actually to call that sound a noise is like saying WW2 was a little awkward, or the Pacific Ocean is a tiny bit damp. Imagine the happiest car alarm you can, turn it up… bit more… bit louder… and you’re there. Nearly.

Sasha’s mother tried to get to her first but Sasha is super quick (one of the reasons we agree she should be a pirate when she is older). Making this noise of pure, unadulterated glee, Sasha started running her hands over the back of my skull, laughing and jumping up and down.

Have you ever really seen anyone jump with joy? It’s actually hard work. Imagine having so much joy you can’t help but jump up and down. I wish that for you, you know. I wish that for me too. So much, uncontainable joy.

So I knelt there, in the hall, while Sasha scratched and played and rubbed my too-short, uneven, bad hair, jumping with delight at the sensation on her hands.

There are moments in every day – golden moments – and it’s important to hold on to those among the drama and whining and dark depressing reality of adulthood. This was beyond golden.

My haircut is not good. Fact.

My bad haircut brought actual joy to someone who has done nothing but bring me delight for two years. Fact.

I love my new haircut. Fact.

Thanks, Sasha ♥️

me me me me me · queer

drunk TED talk – how jame gumb saved my life


*That* Jame Gumb.

So my RSI is a bastard today, hence my audio experiment. Please note the following.

1. I am not a professional anything 

2. I have a stutter which makes me super anxious. Try not to mention it THANKS BABES.

3. Silence of the Lambs is DEEPLY problematic and transphobic and I wish I didn’t have such an obsession with it.

4. Trigger warnings for suicide. YAH REALLY. 

5. I do not support the wearing of women’s skin.

jame gumb, my childhood role model. PROBLEMATIC.

Clicky clicky here to listen to my dumb voice

Stats referenced in audio:

“Nearly half (48 per cent) of trans people under 26 said they had attempted suicide, and 30 per cent said they had done so in the past year, while 59 per cent said they had at least considered doing so”

Nearly half (45 per cent) of LGBT pupils – including 64 per cent of trans pupils – are bullied for being LGBT in Britain’s schools. This is down from 55 per cent of lesbian, gay and bi pupils who experienced bullying because of their sexual orientation in 2012 and 65 per cent in 2007

More than four in five trans young people have self-harmed, as have three in five lesbian, gay and bi young people who aren’t trans”


satire · skincare

the joy of doing it wrong 

Breaking news. It’s moose counting season again. And also, your roving reporter at the award winning Daily Whogivesafuck brings you worrying news.

*shuffles papers sternly*

I have checked and rechecked the measurements and… god, this is hard, but… data doesn’t lie. We are fast approaching maximum bullshit levels. Don’t believe me? Check out the evidence.


Please, don’t panic. Perhaps it’s not too late. If Jake Gyllenhaal can survive an Ice Age by burning a couple of paperbacks, we too can avert our very own Shitocalypse.

I was disappointed to read an Instagram post by one of the people I most look forward to hearing from. I did DM and ask if I could reference them here but I didn’t hear back so, welcome to VagueTown. This person is smart and funny and does excellent no bullshit reviews. Plus they are super cute.

This person, let’s call them… Cute Face. Cute Face posted asking, much more politely than I would, for people to stop messaging them to tell them they aren’t Doing Skincare Right. Apparently Cute Face doesn’t understand anything. How lucky for Cute Face that people will take time out of their day, to tell a STRANGER that they are the experts in Cute Face’s skin.

the fuck you say?

I have a terrible habit of remembering quotations but not the person who said it and one day someone is going to be like, “… like Hitler said?” and I am going to die. But I am 99.99% sure Hitler didn’t say this.



I keep seeing this. The ten rules of skincare. One essential rule you HAVE to follow. The eleventy million step routine that if you don’t follow, well, I can’t help you.

much love, damien, much love

Dudes. I am human garbage. I just ate a jar of capers for dinner. My phone rang yesterday and I was so startled I shoved it in a drawer until it stopped. I genuinely do not know how humans interact. I wish everyone as a dog. Or subtitled.

So why the fuckity fuck am I, human garbage, having to get drunk and remind people HOW TO BE NICE.

Look, I made a diagram.

god i miss flowchart software

The great thing about this diagram is that it also applies to:

🖕dietary choices

🖕hair and make up


🖕health choices

🖕sexual partners, or lack of, or whatever

🖕anything someone chooses to do with their genitals (unless they are a stranger sat next to you on the bus, unzipped and ready for action)

This post is called the joy of getting it wrong for a reason. Because the fuck ups are important. Hey, I burnt my face off with acids! Do I regret it? Little bit, yeah. Is it a funny story? Fuck, yes. But also – and this is the mind fuck – THERE IS NO WRONG OR RIGHT.

There are no rules. There are no guarantees. And isn’t that the fun bit? Let people do it “wrong”. You don’t have the answers. Let people get their own answers.


Just, dudes. Be nice. Be kind. And keep your mouth flaps shut unless asked to flap them.

satire · skincare

sheet mask organisation for pros

It is so important to keep your stash organised. However, don’t make the mistake of thinking that you can file them by name or height or anything ridiculous. Pros know to organise their sheet masks by type. Please see below for a primer. You’re welcome.

ma bebes

The Free Shippers

You had to buy something to sneak over the minimim spend because it is 2017 and the idea of *paying* for shipping is offensive. Amazon Prime is to blame for this culture of entitlement.

Problem is, these sheet masks linger and breed. Every time you see them you mutter, “I have to use this…” and then pass right over.

One day, you snap and slap one on your face. It’s… okay. You calculate how much money you’ve spent on “okay” masks and realise that this is why you eat instant ramen for dinner three nights a week. Luckily, the guilt lingers about as long as the mask does and fifteen minutes you’ve forgotten all about it.

59 cents, has to be amazing

The Specials

Your discontinued holy grails. You know using this mask would be amazing but you can’t find any more. So you save it for a special occasion. Except you work in an office and your Oscars invite never quite arrives. You hoard your precious specials away, waiting, waiting for that once in a life time occasion.

Newsflash. That occasion will be your funeral because there is no day special enough in your eyes. In a year you’ll realise with horror that the masks expired. It doesn’t matter. You were never going to use them. 

not discontinued but i will never be rich enough to pay £85 for five

The Old Reliables

Like your ex, these masks are cheap, deliver what you need and you can always get another.

But, just like your ex, they can get old, fast. They’re just not very exciting. You can’t post on IG about them because everyone and their boyfie has posted a selfie. You feel guilty for thinking about selfies when you’re choosing a mask and promise that you’ll use it next time. They’re good! They work! But, where is the element of surprise? You just need something… exciting.

This line of thinking is why you have forty nine My Beauty Diary masks in your stash. Also, it’s why you broke up with your ex and shagged that bartender with the tongue piercing. And we all know how well that turned out. It’s lonely at night sometimes.

they’re fine! no, they’re good! they just don’t make me feel… alive anymore, you know?

The Pretties

You bought this for the packaging, you shallow trollop. It’s at the front of every stash picture you post on IG. Sometimes you hold it and think about the sort of person you’d be if you used it. Then you put it back and eat Pringles for breakfast. You’ll use it. One day. When you’re better.

so beautiful, so precious

The Grave Mistakes 

Some people call it optimism. Others call it rampant stupidity. You know that bubble masks make your skin crawl. Or maybe, you know you’re allergic to mineral oil. YOU KNOW THIS. 



But maybe not this time?

Good god, even dogs learn eventually. 

These masks were usually bought because everyone else on IG bought them. They’re so cool. God, why can’t you be cool like that? How do they make it so easy? Maybe this mask will help. Best buy a pack of five to cement your cool kid status.

Spoiler alert! This mask will not make you cool, it will make you itchy and sad. You can feel itchy and sad for free. Don’t do it.

Grave Mistakes also include – anything bought drunk, anything bought in person because it was there and anything from your local drugstore labelled “inspired by kbeauty”. 

fucking evil

The Fan Favourites 

Remember what your ma used to say? If the big kids jumped off a bridge, would you follow them? No, Ma, god, leave me alone, I never asked to be born! *door slams*

Your ma was right about a lot of things. You wouldn’t jump off a bridge cos the big kids did it, don’t be silly. However, if the big kids jumped off a bridge wearing a sheet mask and hashtagged it #holygrail, you would be looking up directions to the nearest bridge on gmaps in three seconds.


If you like it, so what, so does everyone else. If you hate it, be prepared to get downvoted to hell because you Do Not Criticise The Fan Favourite. God, do you even go here?

Fan Favourites often crossover with the Grave Mistakes and both lead to a feeling of disappointment and mild self loathing. However Fan Favourites are worse because you’re just so disappointed. Is everything a lie?

i dont get it… coming soon to a swap post near you!

The What The Fucks

We are an odd bunch in the AB world. Potato sheet masks? Fuck yeah. Snail? Old news. Placenta? Sooo last year. We will literally put anything on our faces. Ingredient sluts seek out the new snail/placenta/horse oil deliberately. And loudly. We’ve all seen the posts.

“OMG dog spit is the new must have sheet mask essence!”


“I’m only using organic wasp jizz sheet masks from now on #holygrail”

“sheet masks are over, I only use actual skin now #hannibalhydration”

Bonus points if the sheet mask is entirely in another language and Google Translate doesn’t recognise any of the words. Extra bonus points if you can only buy them from one seller, who doesn’t speak any major world language and doesn’t have an actual store, just an email address.

Dudes. Just buy some drugs. Guaranteed excitement. Plus you won’t care what your face is like because it’ll occur to you that your face… is what stops… your head stuff falling out… oh my god… we are all just weird skin bags stuffed with goo.

(I am out of What The Fucks! Recs please)

The Ghosts

You don’t remember buying it. You don’t remember adding it at the back of your stash. The name is… kind of familiar but you can’t quite place it. It’s a mystery.

You see the empty packet in the trashcan. You don’t remember using it. Your touch your cheek. It’s damp. You can smell something in the air, but as soon as you try to identify it, it’s gone.

Where did you come from? you whisper into the trashcan. Do you have a message for me?

The empty packet lies, silent and crumpled. Aloof, secretive, the packet cannot tell you – because it’s a plastic envelope you weirdo. Stop talking to bins.

did it ever really exist? you’ll never be sure