I'm currently having a serious love affair with my L'Oreal Voluminous Million Lashes mascara... at least I was until I mistakenly brought home the wrong one.
I noticed something was a bit different when I saw an azure colored band running down the side of the tube where the writing goes...hmmm, I thought, my true love, appears to have changed, something doesn't seem quite right.
How right I was... after a few days in a row of wearing the stuff I realized that I was getting a pretty big pile up on my lashes, so much so that each individual lash had a weight attached to it.
I tried to separate the lashes with a pin (and old 70's trick we Maybelline Great Lash wearers know all about)... I pulled so hard trying to remove the black chunks off of the lashes that there were some fatalities (not to mention a few bare spots on my eyelids)...
During an ah-ha moment (tee-hee) I came to the conclusion that I must have bought waterproof, which in the mascara world means it has now become a body part...
I bought another tube (this time the right stuff), and we've been goin hot and heavy ever since.
Yesterday, while running late getting ready to go to the Mill I was forced to use the waterproof one when the other had totally disappeared from my makeup bag...
I had no one to blame but the dog for the missing mascara...(Daddio threatened a bust to the chops if I blamed he or Bear for the theft)
Anyway, I used the waterproof crap thinking one day probably wouldn't hurt.
At work a few hours later...a new assignment ( a cluster you know what) had me pretty much up in arms when it came to my attention (via a peon (piss-on) like myself) that I was getting a load of 20 loveables in my evening Life Skills class..
Shall I throw myself in a fire pit, now?
Or do I wait and be eaten alive one bite at a time?
Or should I just sit on a red hot poker?
About 4 of the 20 loveables have a history with the co-facilitator.
In nicer words they hate each other's bloody azz guts.
So in real reality (tee-hee) those 4 lovables have the potential to multiply and infect the whole bunch with a virus of bad attitude and disrespect.
When the word came down about the 20 loveables in one class with ONLY two (as in 2) staff I instantly went into flight mode, I felt my face flame and my ears start to burn and I did what any other middle aged mental-pause(al) woman would do... I started pulling out my hair, I slid my lipstick sideways on my mouth and I let the snot drip from nose...and then, I went in search of my supervisor.
When he was nowhere to be found I went in search of his supervisor.
His "In A Meeting, DO NOT DISTURB" sign was hanging... , I peeked one bulging, bloodshot eye in the small window and could see he was clearly in a meeting.
A moment (short lived, I should add) of sanity had me having second thoughts of dramatically barging into his office and babbling incoherently my displeasure at my being chosen the human sacrifice of the day.
Since he was clearly tied up I did the next best thing...
I ran into my office and yanked out my computer and typed up an email that will probably haunt me all the rest of my days.
Especially when one second after my battle cry "I AM MENTAL-PAUSE(al) WOMAN HEAR ME ROOARRRRRR" I hit the send button.
After that I didn't know whether to shit or go blind.
And although I really wanted to burst into tears and sob a tale of woe so sad that the whole world would wrap me up in their arms and protect me from my big bad job (and my fire breathing dragon boss' who were guaranteed to be wanting to kick my middle-aged ass after they got their eyeballs burned out reading their inbox gift from me).
I got in my work van and drove across the street to Sam's Club... (they have a really large parking lot).
There I let it go.
I cried those big gulping sobbing sobs, my nose ran and my mouth grimaced and I'm sure I was quite the sight to see for those men (waiting on shopping wives) sitting in the cars around me.
I called every soft place to fall I know... all except for Daddio and Marmie.
Daddio would have been on the first train to my location, ready and willing to kick ass, and Marmie would have been sleeping and being a mother myself I know the worst thing you can do to your mother is wake her up with a hysterical phone call.
After nearly an hour I'd run outta tears and time and knew I had to go back.
I put my hair back up into my plastic holder and gathered the huge pile of heavy tissues that littered the van.
Then I pulled down the mirror to access the damage.
HOLY SHIT... if you could look past the dead shark eyes, I didn't look half bad.
And HOT DAMN!!! I still had eyelashes.
My extra-mascara-til affair had reaped an unexpectedly huge benefit.
My glass is half full, always.
I just need a little reminder of that every now and then.
Thank you for the visit and for listening.