Thursday, January 12, 2012

Oh, My Bags Are Packed...

…And they’re sitting there, right under my eyeballs, sadistic black circles that make me look like I walked into the wall while holding up a pair of binoculars. In my younger days, I popped contact lenses in every morning, put on make-up and never thought about the portmanteaus under the peepers. It was devastating when I had to wear glasses on a regular basis, so not that long ago, in another of those ‘what was I thinking’ moments, I tried contacts again. I poked them into my eyeballs and stared, horrified at what stared back at me. This started my adventure.

To be fair, florescent lights are never flattering, but still, the sight was earth-shattering. Considering myself to be a logical, reasonable adult though, I did what every other logical, reasonable adult would do. Somewhere I had read what ‘the stars’ do about this. Depends must be overflowing at the thought of how, based on a stupid article, someone would go running out to buy this magical potion that instantly cures black eyes. The article’s author giggles uncontrollably at the notion of women nonchalantly purchasing tubes of hemorrhoid cream. I walked with a strong stride into the store, that alone announcing to the world that I wasn’t the one with little bunches of grapes hanging from my bottom. For insurance I added loudly ‘I have to get this home right away for my poor dear husband. He’s in such pain’ then smiled my angelic smile just to make sure everyone knew it was not for me. I got home, ran into the bathroom, and started to smear the stuff on my face, knowing within seconds the black circles would be gone. No more glasses for me!

The problem with these creams, and there is no way to be delicate here, is that they are designed to stick where gravity insists nothing should stick unless it is practically glued in place. I dabbed it under my eyes, tried to rub it into the skin, cursing as my skin wrinkled and ran away. Who could blame it? So, with my other hand up there to hold the skin tight, I tried again. Being cheated on the coordination gene, both fingers end up covered with the pasty glue. That was when the doorbell rang. No one wants to shake your hands when you have Preparation H on your fingertips, and seeing it on your face does nothing to cement social interactions, although it can, and does cement your eyelids when you get it too close to the lashes. It does, though, leave the black circles intact. Thank God for glasses. They hide the black bags.

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