Sunday, March 22, 2009

Blue Eyeshadow To My Rescue


I'm not a huge holiday person. With the exception of Halloween. Halloween is great for those of us who never lost the desire to dress up despite the onset of puberty and the loss of parental encouragement to don castoffs and Mom's donated lipstick (as a 7-year-old it seldom matters if a tube of exotic lipstick is the wrong shade for one's skin).

Due to Halloween I don't have to come up with some legitimate reason for why I want to wear a purple wig or affix lashes that almost look like little furry spiders to my lash lines. Due to Halloween I can wear skirts that are too short, tights that are too glittery, and sashay with abandon just because. (Ever notice how sashaying instantly leads to a good mood? Try it.) God, I love Halloween. I used to also love the candy, but adulthood has also stripped me of my proclivity toward sweets, and hastened me further along the path to all things savory. If I could be part of a group of adults to go trick or treating I would want it to be a wine bar crawl, with an assortment of cheeses, olives, and little mini quiches.

I'm a silver lining kind of gal, but due to hormones, allergies, or perhaps the cycle of the moon, my silver lining detector quit on me last week. I felt the internal whirring stop, and thought about writing a (funny) poem about what it might be like to throw myself off my parents' roof.

Now, I must quickly add that while my silver lining detector sometimes shuts off, my (perhaps I'll call it "macabre"?) sense of humor is as available to me as my nightly bruxism. So, in no way do I advocate suicide as a solution to anyone, ever. However, sometimes a good laugh, even one rooted in politically incorrect material, is better than no laugh at all.

[The rabbit hole of frustration that unemployment can engender admittedly provides an awful lot of material for bad poetry, endless haikus, and expletive-filled anecdotes to friends; I don't know that living happily, sans fiscal concerns, and staunch singledom provides the same volume of fodder. I think I bring up a good point here.]

One way to get my silver lining machine whirring again is eye shadow. Like, at Long's or Target. When I'm actually *in* an income bracket, I can explore this psychology with more expensive brands like MAC and Laura Mercier. In the meantime, I'm quite happy with drug store eye shadow. I don't know why giving myself a smoky eye is like taking a month's worth of Prozac, and I have no desire to question it.

Long's has a cosmetics sale going right now. I'm out of the rabbit hole.

3 comments:

  1. ooooh. Eyeshadow. One of the great loves of my life.

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  2. I'm at the point with the smoky eye that I don't recognize the person in the mirror without it.

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  3. I'm jealous that such a thing can be so moving when there is no straight-male equivalent. Cologne? Creative facial hair? Alas, I'll never know such simple grooming joy...

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