$9 To Look Like Gwen Stefani

Thursday we did our mid-week grocery shopping - the one you do after you remember everything you forgot to buy on Sunday. Mark was adamant about not spending too much money, so I tried to keep my donuts and chip & dip cravings from interfering, though the junk food devil on my shoulder was screaming all kinds of profanities at me.

Surprisingly, I was able to turn down almost everything (except the donuts and something kind of unexpected--mascara).

I swear, every woman still has that teenage girl inside of her who pops out when she least expects it. Thursday mine was triggered by Voluminous False Fiber Lashes Mascara. I plea temporary insanity, because it definitely wasn't the advertising drawing me in. I know I'm smarter than to buy anything that reads, "...boosts your own lashes to bold, outrageous, OMG levels." I refuse to believe I'm a member of this target market.

The packages were on an end display, and there was no price. I told Mark that I "needed" some new mascara anyway and was just dying to try this new brand. I told him I would have the cashier scan it at checkout to make sure it wasn't too expensive.

A few minutes later, the cashier broke the news to me: "It's nine dollars." Mark's eyes got wide. I know you can spend a lot more for makeup, but I've just never been that kind of girl. I began my own sales pitch to Mark, "Ahem, that's nine dollars to look like Gwen Stefani. Don't you think it's worth it?" The cashier rolled her eyes at me. Mark sighed. I threw it in with our groceries.

...and forgot about it until yesterday evening, when we decided to go out for pizza and a movie. I thought, "I'm going to make 9+ months pregnant look good." I got all dolled up, put on a few dramatic shades of eyeshadow, and grabbed my new mascara!

For some reason, though, it wasn't giving me the "umph" I expected. It looked like my regular mascara. In an attempt to get that Gwen-Stefani "wow", I put on a lot--to the point it was clumping, and I had to do some damage control, dabbing with a paper towel. I was determined to make it work. I finally came up with something I was semi-satisfied with and went into our bedroom to begin the 10-minute task of putting on pants and socks (still waiting on baby...).

I sometimes need Mark's help but was determined to do it myself. Five minutes in, after pulling my back out, twice dropping my right sock, and remembering that, in the morning, I had to start my doctor's appointments leading up to being induced, I had a complete emotional breakdown. I started crying and couldn't stop--uncontrollable sobs.

Mark overheard and came in. My head was buried in my hands, and he gave me a big hug, told me everything would be fine, and finished dressing me. I looked up at him, trying to catch my breath and said through a few last, whimpery sobs, "I just love you so much...."

He looked at me sideways and said, "Oh my God. Are you wearing mascara?" I could only imagine what I looked like, especially when I later read the other side of the box. Opposite of the "Never Fake it Again" line, it says, quite clearly, not to get these "false fibers" wet. It had done more than run. It looked like I had tried to fingerprint my face.

I started crying all over again and sobbed, "I'm not Gwen Stefani... I'm Lindsay Lohan... on drugs..."