Chug-a-hug

Being grabbed by people I don't know very well has never done much for me. Neither am I very good at this hugging-as-a-hello thing that's become so fashionable in the last ten years.
I think my problem stems from growing up in Yorkshire where public displays of touching one another happened only at birthdays and burials, and even then only if you were wearing a coat.
As time has passed I've got much better at hugging people I've only just been introduced to, but I still freak when someone invades my personal space in a major way.
Which is why I always walk down the middle of the aisles in the Myer cosmetics' department, in much the same way as I've always walked down the middle of the street if it's after dark and I'm on my own.
But this seems to be working less and less. A few weeks ago I looked briefly at some of this new mineral foundation that's advertised endlessly on TV (it apparently makes your complexion look "flarless", which is American for perfect).
Three seconds later I'd been grabbed, half my face was covered in it and the girl wielding the brush was telling me it would look even better - "Like, you'll get that total doll look" - if I applied it over the top of normal foundation. Sort of like brick veneer for the face, I suppose.
Even when I said, "I'm 56 years old - why would I want to look like a doll?" - she didn't pause for breath, just launched into a spiel on the importance of brushing in a circular motion.
By the time I escaped, one side of my face was very beige and "flarless", and the other wasn't. I looked like a Kingston biscuit after someone had licked off the filling.
Funnily enough, no one stopped and asked me if I wanted a hug.