When I was younger, I was a devotee of My Girl, desperate to be Vada and impress my own Thomas J. I spent many of my younger years thinking that baggy clothes were somehow flattering and generally looking very rubbish.

One offshoot was that I was so late to the makeup party that I decided to skip it all together. Makeup counters are terrifying to me.

I’ve had a few pampering sessions recently, and thought that putting my discomfort to the side and mustering the courage for a makeup makeover would complete the package.

I headed to Bloomingdales on Broadway after work and, after a browse, chose the Mac counter – because it was a name I recognised and filled with vibrant colours and smiley ladies. But I felt like Vada back in my dungarees again and knew that, because I had no idea what was going on, this was going to be a bit uncomfortable.

They started with primer (like a wall), then plastered on a foundation. I started to look like a geisha and it only got worse when my lady, Tiffany, tried to put concealer on my eyes. When I said it didn’t look quite right – it was far too light – she suggested that I try to get some more sleep.

Er, what? I came here to feel good about myself, not worse, thanks Tiff. Isn’t makeup supposed to make you feel more confident? I’d like to see how she looked after 7am starts every day.

When I looked unimpressed, she flattered my eyelashes and got to painting my cheeks and eyes (light first then dark in the eyeball crease), layering on mascara and slapping on a dark lip gloss.

She used NW20 Mac Mineraliza foundation, ‘Peaches’ sheertone blush (which I really liked actually) and ‘delight’ cremesheen glass lip gloss.

The whole time, another woman flittered behind Tiffany oohing and aahing at her work, and I was like, what are they so happy with, they are making me look like Courtney Stodden.

Eventually I escaped. I kept my head down the whole walk home, occassionally rubbing a cheek to get off what I could. I must look a state, I thought.

Actually, when I got home, it was… fine. I didn’t look like myself, which I didn’t think was necessarily a good thing, but I did look tidier. And when I took my new face partying, the girls said it looked great. Although there was quite a bit of wine involved.

It was good to attempt to battle my discomfort around makeup and lady things, but I think I’ll stick to my Vada Sultenfuss ponytail and lip balm, thanks.