Kristina Jones
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Skincare SOS
I’m at the absolute limits of my patience; waking up daily only to but heads with someone surly, uncooperative and downright rebellious. No, I am not parent to a teen who has tired of the love, care and attention I’ve been showing it for years, and is now throwing it back in my face. The unruly one is me. More specifically, my skin, which woke up one day angry at the world, ready to unleash the full power of its red, tight, itchy, and spotty fury my way.
By Kristina Jones5 years ago in Blush
BEFORE THE STORM
She smiles that particular smile of hers; the one blissful like a cat in the sun, keeping an eye on the shade line; knowing it’s about to end. Any second now mum will be wheeling around the corner; into the kitchen with the full force of her morning mood; that mood she always seems to be in. That mood which doesn’t allow for daughterly mischief, such as eating jam from the jar by the spoonful. That mood which would tell her to stop dilly-dallying and bloody get on with the housework. That mood which would likely result in a whack, a wallop or some other painful lesson, if it were particularly bad. It always seemed to be.
By Kristina Jones5 years ago in Fiction
