Eight days. EIGHT DAYS without mascara and TWO WEEKS without contacts. A prescription for ugly. That was the diagnosis.
I have big crusty pink spots on the skin around my eyes, and it's all I can do not to gouge them out with my bare hands. I ITCH, people.
I'm not a big makeup person, but I AM a big mascara person. It's the only thing I put on every day. It's part of the routine ... hit the alarm, say my prayers, and BAM! Mascara. (Hey, at least prayers are first. Priorities and all.)
Those of you who say, "Oh, That Girl, quit your yawlin', I've seen you without makeup, you're fine." Here's a news flash for you. You've never seen me without makeup. Promise. If you've seen my first thing in the morning, I'm wearing the mascara I never washed off the night before. I didn't even let MY MAN see me without makeup til we'd been married like three months. I was so afraid I'd slip up somehow and he'd see me and be all "AUGH! WHO ARE YOU, YOU SWAMP CREATURE THING? WHERE'S MY WIFE?!" Luckily, marriage comes with circumstancial blindness and he insists that I'm beautiful no matter what. Smart guy.
Okay. So honesty here. I don't look so bad in glasses AND makeup. I don't look so bad in contacts and NO makeup. But glasses? No makeup? Recipe for don't-look-at-me-I'm-going-to-go-hide-under-a-rock.
Sigh. I'm vain. Ether 12:27 - the Lord will show us our weaknesses and make them our strengths. Or he'll just give us pink eye and tell us to get the heck over it, it's not that big a deal.
In the meantime, I'm not leaving my house.