On Christmas Day I was going to a restaurant for lunch, so was all dressed up, makeup as perfect as I could get it, hair shiny bright, and i was filling in time before I left the house. I switched on the tv to see what film was on.
It was the Winona Ryder version of "Little Women". Now, I'd loved the book as a young girl so I knew the plot well. I tuned in exactly at the most sad part of the whole story. The tears poured down my cheeks.
Darn. I hared off to the bathroom to wash my face and re-apply my make-up. I returned to the movie.
And more tears.
Back to the bathroom, back to my make-up bag and, then, back to the movie.
I was sure that it would be safe now to finish watching. No more traumatic happenings that I could recall.
But that last scene had me blubbering, and sniffing, and wailing, and all but hiccuping. Kudos to the scriptwriters, and a big thank you to the ghost of Louisa May Allcott for the book.
And I sure made Max Factor's day..