A small note to sing the praises of mascara…
Depending on when I work out, I don’t always shower and get ready first thing in the morning during the summer months. (During the school year, I work out before the sun rises and get ready for the day before seeing most people.) There are days I sit around for hours in casual clothes or my workout gear, running errands or reading or running Dylan where he needs to be.
It seems silly on those days to take time for makeup, and I generally don’t. Lip gloss or lip balm? Always. I can’t live without it. My other must-have? Mascara.
While it’s always been a favorite makeup item, the older I get, the more I’m convinced I would put on at least one coat even if the house started to burn down, and I REALLY needed to leave. Age is changing the tone of my skin (less blush, more monochrome) and the length and lushness of my eyelashes. They’ve never been a prime feature, but now? They’re virtually invisible without mascara.
I wear it to go on walks with friends, drop Dylan off at tennis, and to pick up groceries. Does anyone care except me? I doubt it, though I must think it matters because it’s become a serious makeup crutch.
This isn’t one of those confessions that leads to, “I realized I’m caving to beauty standards and don’t care about that anymore.” It’s a confession to say, “If my eyelashes look a little sparse when you see me next, it’s because I only had time for a quick eyelash curl and one coat of mascara. Hopefully, the next time you see me, I’ll have had time for at least three coats.”
Apparently, age hasn’t done away with some level of vanity around here.
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