Gauging my eyes out

I should be getting food ready for our little Independence Day party at our house. SHOULD. I seem to say that word quite a lot lately. Instead, I’m grazing on some pound cake and by grazing I mean wolfing down this sweet and heavenly treat before the kids discover that we even have some.

By the way, I provide parenting tips for a very small fee.

Instead, I’m standing in the bathroom and glaring at myself in the mirror.

Usually, it takes me five minutes to get ready if I’m going to the mall or to the grocery store. Brush teeth, wash face, moisturize, eye cream, sunscreen, sadly pretend that I know what to do with my big, frizzy hair. That’s it. No big deal.

Today, however, I decided to change it up a bit. A little makeup here and a little makeup there so my parents know that I’m not transforming into an undead. Because I’m sure that’s probably on their top ten list of what’s going on with me.

I’m pretty sure the toddler kicked me in the head too many times because I thought it would be a great time to use false eyelashes. Normally, I whip these babies out (falsies! Not anything else, pervs) on the few occasions I go out at night because I have Asian eyelashes and they droop. Sorta like my boobs, but that’s yet another sad tale for another time when my self-esteem is a bit stronger.

Jesus fucking Christ!!

For thirty minutes now, I’ve struggled.

Eyelash adhesive. Poked eyes. Smudges everywhere. Shaky hands. Muttering mother fucker under my breath.

I yelled at myself in the mirror, YOU, ASSHOLE! Carl popped his head into the bathroom – were you calling me?

Now as I stare at my reflection and I realize I should just wear big sunglasses all day so I can look chic and like an asshole. Multi-tasking is so much fun!

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