Disclaimer: This mask does not turn water into wine or feed thousands with a loaf and a fish. So miracle is probably sort of a strong term. But I didn’t name the damn thing.
Another disclaimer, if I may: This post is pretty obviously meant for college students. It’s on collegefashion.net and the title of the post is Dorm Room Spa. I am not a college student and haven’t been one for quite some time, so that is perhaps why this pin did not thrill me as much as it should have.
And, also, if it were really meant as a beauty treatment you can do in your dorm room with just the stuff on hand, it should probably be made out of Ramen noodles, Doritos, and pot. Just sayin’.
Ingredients are honey, nutmeg, and cinnamon, so it was kind of like smelling a really delicious cinnamon bun… That you then decided to smear all over your face.
Yeah. Here’s where it got weird. Probably because it was time to smear it all over my face.
I then attempted to leave the mask on my face for the prescribed 30 minutes. However, I was making some cat vomit meatballs and noticed a little extra flavor dropping in at odd intervals.
Drippage, my dear!
I really tried to leave it on for the full 30 minutes, but after a few drips, I couldn’t take it anymore.
They should have done a disclaimer about the rinsing process.
Disclaimer: If you accidentally get some of this in your eye while you are scrubbing in a circular motion to exfoliate, it will feel like you just squirted half a bottle of Sriracha in there.
Disclaimer: This makes a big shitty mess in the sink. I chose the word “shitty” carefully.
Disclaimer: You will think you have finally washed your face clean, and then when you go to towel your face, your towel will look like this.
The real kick in the head about all this? I did this mask on Saturday. It is now the following Thursday and I’m having a major pre-adolescent zit-fest on my face. So, unless you’re doing the Ramen-Dorito-pot version of this (send pictures), you probably should skip it.