I’ll admit it, I’m a sucker for make-up.
I’ve got to check out the latest and greatest. So on a recent trip to the drug store, I was lured to the cosmetic aisle like a fish to shiny objects.
They put all the new stuff on an endcap. Brightly colored displays featuring images of too perfect women adorn the shelves and scream, “try this product and you’ll look like ME!”
The blonde in me kicks in…… Okay….
Mascara seems to be the one to get me. It’s easy for me to overlook anything foundation related. My skin is way too sensitive and I know what will happen if I go there. I love eye shadow, so sometimes the bright new shades will captivate me. And I’m pretty loyal to my lip products (Honeybee Perfection Lip Liner and Seduction Lipstick) so that’s not the best bait either. But mascara intrigues me. I want to have the BEST. And I’m always comparing mine to other brands.
Nine bucks later, I’m walking out of the store with yet another tube of black mascara. This one has a huge super new technology brush which includes both brush and comb bristles. “Finally,” I think, “a mascara that won’t clump. I mean, how could it with this brush that has TWO KINDS of bristles?”
The next morning as I apply my make-up, I’m anxious to try my new purchase. I open up the tube to find the brush is HUGE – about the size of my eye ball. I’m wondering how I’m going to keep from poking an eye out with this thing (especially since my kitten Falon is walking back and forth across the vanity in front of my face, begging for attention…if her tail goes up my nose one more time I’m tempted to bite it to send her packing). With the precision of an artist I began sweeping the bulbous object across my lashes. Clump. Clump. Dang. I get out my single applicator brush that I swiped from Sephora, and begin sweeping away about half the product which is caked on my lashes. It’s about 6:30 in the morning and I’m not the brighest bulb at that hour, so I think to myself that possibly things will go better with the other eye. Several tissues, gobs of mascara and one upset cat later, I reach for my own brand of mascara and start over. Nine bucks down the tube. Rats.
Will I repeat this process again? Probably. Will I be lured by vibrating mascara wands, colored mascara that promises to make my green eyes even greener, and super techno advanced mascara brushes that will make me have lashes like a Victoria’s Secret model? No doubt. And they’ll all end up in my vanity drawer. At least they make fun cat toys.