“Mommy, why do you have fuzzy blue cow ears on your eyes?”
Let me back up and set the stage for my astounding moment of glamour, which unfortunately spanned the week that I was at Dave’s family cabin last August.
Perhaps you have found yourself in a similar situation. You run into the store, grabbing things off of your list with reckless abandon. In my particular case, we were leaving for a week of vacation at Dave’s family’s cabin in the British Columbia interior that would include a family reunion with Ruth’s lady cousins from Campbell River. There were just a few things I needed: sunscreen, toothpaste and mascara. Everything else was packed and in the car, as were Dave and Little Man. The ferry was waiting. I kept mumbling to myself our archaeology field saying “don’t panic, be quick.”
It was only after I’d gotten back into the car, we’d driven to the ferry terminal and gotten in line to drive on board that I flipped open the car’s vanity mirror and pulled out my purchases. I wanted to finish putting on my mascara since the tube I had at home was mummy dry. I opened the mascara package, unskrewed the lid, pulled out the brush… and stared dumbstruck at the mascara wand. It was dry. More than dry, it was empty. So I put the wand back in, swirled it around and pulled it out again just to have the same view. But now my travel rushed brain was picking up on my visual cues. The mascara wand was not dry, but was in fact heavily coated with blue mascara. And not just any blue, but indigo blue. Bright, 1980s, nearly fluorescent, indigo blue. Doh! But at this point I had no other options. They don’t sell mascara on the ferry. I’d just have to wear this gloriously indigo blue mascara for the day, and we’d stop at a store in Kamloops or somewhere to buy some normal black mascara on the way. That was a good plan, and as with all good plans…
So I showed Dave what I’d done, applied the mascara, and gamely kept on going as if I didn’t look completely ridiculous. Once we were parked on the ferry, had ferried Little Man and his accoutrement to the passenger deck, and found seats, I turned to Dave and asked him to truthfully tell me how ridiculous I looked. It’s just mascara, right? How bad could it be? Dave blinked and stated that it didn’t look too bad. No one would notice. Just then Little Man tugged on my arm and asked for one of his traveling toys. I turned to him and handed him what he had asked for. My darling three year old boy glanced at me, did a complete double take, stared with squinting attention at the upper part of my face and asked, “Mommy, why do you have fuzzy blue cow ears on your eyes?” I said nothing, just turned to look at Dave, who at this point had burst into hysterical laughter and was close to falling out of his chair. I still owe him for that.
As it ended up, somewhere in the joys of the six hour car trip with a three year old, we both completely forgot to stop at a store for mascara. The family cabin is indeed in the interior, and it is a 45 minute trip one way just to get down to the local store. I couldn’t justify making the drive solely for my vanity, and decided to wear my “fuzzy blue cow ear” eyes with pride. My lovely sister-in-law took my “new look” in stride, thinking that I was just trying something different. This makes me wonder what she thinks of my normal look… Lest the lady cousins thought that I was truly trying to pull off a fluorescent blue mascara “look,” I shared the story of my moment of glamour… that would end up spanning the week… with them. They took it in stride and filled my glass. The mascara was a stunner.
Once back home the tube of indigo blue mascara would live for a few months at the back of my bathroom drawer, with the thought that maybe for Halloween… Then once that holiday passed, it went into the land of no return, aka the trash bin. And while that particular fashion moment will hopefully not be repeated by me, it does still live in infamy as recorded in every picture of me from that week, especially in those that focus on my face like those when I am holding my then months old niece. Ah, the glamour…