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Leesville Daily Leader - Leesville, LA
  • Lost in Suburbia: The eyes have it

  • When it comes to cosmetics, I am pretty brand loyal. If I find something I like, I will usually stick with it until something drastic happens like they stop making it or they discover that it can turn your skin green or make you grow facial hair … neither of which is a particularly good look for me. Of course the worst thing is when a brand you love does the unthinkable: They change the formula.

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  • When it comes to cosmetics, I am pretty brand loyal. If I find something I like, I will usually stick with it until something drastic happens like they stop making it or they discover that it can turn your skin green or make you grow facial hair … neither of which is a particularly good look for me. Of course the worst thing is when a brand you love does the unthinkable: They change the formula.
    This is what happened to my mascara.
    As much as you can love a cosmetic, I LOVED my mascara. But when I ran out and bought a new one, I knew the second I pulled out the brush that they had messed with it. The liquid was thinner and it broke the cardinal rule of mascara-ness: It clumped.
    Thinking it might be one, lone, bad mascara, I returned it and bought another one. But the next one was exactly the same. On my third trip to the drugstore, I stood in the cosmetic aisle wondering if there was any other mascara that could ever make me as happy as my old mascara had. As I perused the racks, my eyes suddenly came to rest on something I had never considered before.
    There, in a plastic case, were the prettiest pair of eyelashes I had ever seen. They were, of course, false eyelashes. They looked just like my own eyelashes used to look back when I still cosmetically innocent and believed in Santa, the Tooth Fairy and my mascara manufacturer. I had never used false eyelashes before, but I thought they might be the answer to my mascara dilemma.
    I immediately bought them and raced home to try them on. After struggling for twenty minutes, I finally got them in place. Although they looked right, they felt funny, and I wasn’t sure if I just wasn’t used to the feel of false eyelashes or if I had done something wrong.
    “What do you think?” I asked my husband as I batted my long and lustrous new eyelashes at him.
    “What’s wrong with your eyes?” he asked.
    “I’m showing you my new eyelashes!” I explained, batting them some more. He leaned closer and peered at my face.
    “They look fake,” he declared.
    “They are fake. But don’t they look good?”
    “Why would you wear fake eyelashes?” he asked, shaking his head. “It would be like if I wore a fake mustache.”
    “Well, I think they look great!” I protested. Frustrated with his lack of eyelash appreciation, I decided to go run some errands and take my new false eyelashes out for a spin.
    At the dry cleaners, I stood at the counter waiting to get the attention of the store employee who was busy writing up another order. 
    Page 2 of 2 - “Can I help you?” She finally said looking up from the order slip. She suddenly screamed and then, reached out, and slapped me across the face.
    I grabbed my cheek in shock and stepped back as she came running around the counter and stomped on the floor.
    “Yyyou hit me!” I stammered. “Why did you do that?”
    “No! No! I wasn’t hitting you,” she explained breathlessly. “You had a HUGE SPIDER on your face!” She pointed to the floor where the alleged spider had been summarily stomped and destroyed.
    I looked down, and peered at the dead thing on the floor. Then I bent over and picked up what was left of what I had immediately determined to be one of my false eyelashes.
    “It’s not a spider.” I said holding out the dead eyelashes in the palm of my hand for her to see. “It’s my eyelashes.”
    She blinked in confusion. “Eyelashes?” 
    “Yes,” I said sadly. “False eyelashes.”
    “Oh, wow. I’m really sorry,” she groaned, glancing down at my dead false eyelashes. “Now you just have eyelashes for one eye.”
    “I know.”
    “What are your going to do?” she asked.
    I shrugged. “Give the other one to my husband. He can use it for a mustache.”
    Follow Tracy on Twitter at @TracyinSuburbia.
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