After years of insisting that one mascara is not just as good as any other, my daughter has won the debate. We conducted a test and the high end mascara’s costing three times the average price are indeed, much better. Now that my lifetime search for the best products out there is down by one, I’m excited to continue on.
There is an infinite array of beauty products available these days, each touted to be the product that will change my life. I have fallen hard and fast for so many, like a flash flood careening down a mountain side, taking out trees and boulders and millions of pounds of earth as it goes.
These products have promised a newness in me that compares only with starting over from birth. As that isn’t going to happen, I’ve opted to believe in serums formulated to ease the wrinkles from the creases around my eyes, from the corners of my mouth, from the crevices in my forehead. I have been convinced over and over again that this product, this one and only product, this new discovery, after centuries of laboratory research, will be the one truly offering the fountain of youth. All negatives will be stripped from my aging face just like everything in the way of that flash flood. I will be recognized only as the young woman I used to be, if only I will commit to using this product eighteen times a day for the next six short years.
Admittedly, I have flung myself headfirst into products promoted by the most captivating advertising campaigns in the world, blindingly groping my way onward to the coveted end result. Any doubt attempting to linger in my subconscious has been stamped out as if it were a big ugly spider trying to creep in. There will be no Doubting Thomas in my life. I’m a believer!
Yet, as time goes by and, regardless of it all, I continue to age, I sometimes feel a bit disillusioned. I mean, how much difference could there really be between the drug store versions of an anti aging cream as opposed to the products from the department store beauty counter at five times the cost?
Well, let there be no doubt, there is a huge difference, I’m sure of it. Somewhere in the world, among the marketing flurry of beauty, is true youth in a bottle, beauty in a brush, glamor in a shadow, and I am the perfect Guinea pig. I fall for it all, and will surely be spending the rest of my days ordering the next best thing. I will let you know when I find the ultimate one, the magic eraser of all our flaws.
Later,
Mary Ann
