Annie Walton Doyle

It’s official: I have bleached my hair to the point of no return. It can be bad: not cute and fluffy, but damaged and crazy.

Many criticize Geordie Shore as entertainment in its lowest form: fights, drinking, people falling over, nudity, swearing, and “bucking” (sexual intercourse). Yet, to me, it is so much more than that. As a fully qualified human woman, I can’t help myself analyzing the show through feminist-tinted glasses. The decisions and attitudes of the “family” represent, to me, a new kind of feminism.

Lash stain: what the hell. Am I right?

I love spending money like a total asshole as much as the next woman. But sometimes, a cheap thrill is the most thrilling thrill of all.

Blurred lip lines make your mouth look plumper in a natural, non-Juvadermed way (pretty), plus makes it look like you’ve just been making out (further proof you are pretty — as if you needed it).

There is literally no disadvantage to being confident. It’ll make you happier, more successful, a better friend, a better person.

Who could have predicted at the turn of the century that one of the biggest (if not the biggest) trends in makeup would be contouring?

During such trying times, there is one trusty frenemy whose shadowy presence always sneaks back into my life. Benzoyl peroxide, I wish I knew how to quit you.

Is there any makeup as synonymous with the twenty-teens as eyebrows?

There seems to be something about being a Millennial that is making me depressed. Our childhoods have left us particularly unprepared for the "real world."