Sunday June 8, 2008
Spouse and I went out (as in on a date) for the first time since "the accident" (which wasn't really an accident, because what he did was on purpose... it's what happened that became the accident.)
Anyway, when dating Spouse, I like to give myself a little spruce by powdering it up and dressing it down. One of my favorite pre-date rituals is the application of mascara.
I'm a brunette. I have long dark lashes. Mascara may or may not be necessary. When it's date night, I jam the mascara wand into the tube and wiggle it around so as to remove as much of the blacky goo as possible. Then with mouth agape and eyes open wide, I brush it on and on and on and on - to the point where I resemble a young Tammy Faye (without the cheatin' husband induced tears of course). Each time I do this, I try to see if I can get those lashes longer than the last time. They can become fantastically longanimous
Before you condemn my conceit for the fruitful foliage of my luscious lashes, you must know that these babies came with an equally endowed mustache.