Green

After unintentionally taking one too many photos lately where the Faery's irises are lit up beautifully in the sunlight, I attempted to try and take a photo of my own. It's harder than it sounds, and I'm not sure what I was thinking.

An excuse in vanity, perhaps? Not really - the only makeup I had on was the remnants of mascara worn two days earlier. As you can see, I wasn't exaggerating about the minimal state of my eye lashes.

Also, the dark circles underneath weren't pretty. Thank god for close cropping, huh?

It was interesting comparing my eyes to the Faery's. She is my clone in many ways, but not her eye colour. Isn't genetics a funny thing? Neither of the girls inherited my green gene. If I can get Miss Pie to sit still enough, I'll try to get a similar shot and then post the comparisons. Why not?


(Yes, I am still procrastinating with packing up for our move...)

Beauty lashings

(Photo source: Etsy via Alyssa Edelan on Pinterest)

Am I the only one who is baffled when it comes to buying mascara? There is so much choice, my head feels like it will explode, so I keep putting off buying new mascara. You don't want to know how infrequently I replace it. If you believe everything you read in the beauty columns, my eyeballs should have imploded from bacteria by now.

It's hard enough knowing which brand to look to, but then each brand has a dozen different types. Some promise to lengthen. Some promise volume. To curl. To separate. Three times thicker? Twice as long? Lengthen and curl? Fatten and lengthen?

Genetically speaking, I drew the short straw in the lashes department. All three of my siblings have long dark eyelashes, whereas mine are blonde, short and sparse.

Clearly, I need all the help I can get. I don't actually wear a lot of makeup, but if there's a single item I'm going to apply, it's mascara (actually, I lie - concealer for the dark eye circles is an equal necessity).

So. I don't want to choose between lengthening or separating. Fattening or curling.

I want need a mascara that does it all. That's not too much to ask for, right?

With all this miraculous 'technology' and 'revolutionary breakthroughs' that are touted in cosmetic commercials, you'd think that by now, someone would have invented a mascara that does it all. How hard could it be?

Part of me thinks that cosmetic companies must be run by some fairly low-IQ people if they can't make something as simple as a one-in-all mascara... but deep down I know the truth. They're cynical, greedy companies that have worked out how to get women to buy three different versions of the same product.

I call it bullshit.

(Also, how stupid do they think women are if they expect us to believe that the false eyelashes adorned by whatever current starlet/It girl in their commercials are real lashes, and simply beefed up by their product? Seriously?)

All I want is pretty eyelashes.

And smaller feet. A girl can dream.

Cracks

One day last year, the Faery and I were having a conversation when she began staring intently into my eyes.

"Mum, what are those cracks in your eyes?"

Was she talking about my crows feet laughter lines? "They're called wrinkles."

"No, Mum, not your wrinkles. I mean, what are those red cracks in your eyes?"

I was confused, but then the penny dropped. My eyes must have been looking red, so I explained to her about small veins, and the role of veins in our bodies.

Wrinkles, blood-shot eyes... either way, boy did I feel attractive. Yeah, baby.

Apart from a quick status update about it on Facebook that day (which resulted in many amused comments), I'd forgotten about this particular exchange.

Until the other day.

I was going through the wad of school worksheets from last week that the Faery had brought home in her bag. She is currently in a bilingual Kindergarten program, and learning Korean, so it seems like there is double the amount of stuff to sort through each day.

Amongst her worksheets, I found this:

In case you missed it, take a closer look.

I felt compelled to ask her what the red lines were. Don't ask why.

With a roll of her eyes and a big sigh, "They're veins, Mum. Remember? You told me eyes have veins."

I wonder how long she's going to add this detail to her rendition of eyes. How often do her teachers encounter children who insist on drawing eyes in clear need of Visine?

I consoled myself with the fact that at least my eyes are green. That stoned, blue, blood-shot eye belongs to someone else...