If you’ve been following me for any amount of time, you already know I’m not exactly an expert on anything beauty or fashion related. It’s just not even an option at this point.
I’ve been stuck in a dressing room, I’ve tried polishing my nails, I used butt cream on my face and I had a failed attempt at a spa day. (Feel free to click any of those links to catch up if you missed it).
I’m not sad or upset by any of this. It’s just the way it is. I actually think being successful at anything regarding makeup or hairstyles or clothing would be too time-consuming and stressful. For me, anyway.
With all that said, I had a momentary lapse of reality a few weeks ago. I was reading a fellow blogger’s review of her favorite things. One of them happened to be a facial scrubber. She raved over her clean face. She used words like soft, glowing skin.
I leaned over and peeked at my own skin in the mirror and thought maybe I needed such a contraption in my life.
The fact that it was also on a huge sale sealed the deal. I’m willing to try anything if it’s enough of a bargain. Within 4 minutes this miracle face machine was ordered and would arrive in a few days.
The day it arrived I eagerly unpacked my new gadget. Carefully though, I’ve been known to Hulk rip packages open and watch as products fly about the room. Not this time. I had a beauty tool just waiting to transport me back to youth skin. I must use grace and patience with such dignified devices.
It was only 1 p.m and I still had many places to go. I wanted to test it out immediately, but the idea of reapplying makeup was just too much, so I waited.
That night, the bedtime routine was equally as wild and chaotic as every other night. Kids flying about the house like wet trapeze artists. Me trying to wrangle the acrobats with pajamas in hand. Finally, I had exactly 35 seconds to myself, so I used them wisely.
I looked at the scrubber. I looked at the 8 attachments. I froze in panic. How do I address the eye makeup issue? Obviously I couldn’t use the spinning brush on my eyes. Right? Right?! Right, that would be bad. Good call. I decided to wash my eye makeup off first.
Feeling more beauty wise already, I turned the gadget on and brought it to my face. The initial zen I’d been waiting for all day was quickly interrupted by a tiny voice.
“What’s that thing, Mommy?”
“Mommy is cleaning her face.”
“With a giant toothbrush?”
“No. It’s to scrub your face. Go find your Daddy, ok?”
Ok. Back to work. With 15 seconds of peace left, I decided more soap was needed. I squirted it on the rotating brush and it immediately flew straight into my left eye. Momentarily blinded and in terrible pain I held the brush in the air (still spinning) and began to throw handful after handful of water into my eye.
Finally, the soap was mostly rinsed out so I continued the relaxing face massage I’d anticipated all day. With one eye still swollen shut and still not enough soap, but terrified to get more, the experience wasn’t exactly going as I’d pictured it.
I was just about to turn it off when more searing pain registered in my brain. This time on the right side of my face. Apparently I had quite the night and hundreds of little wispy hairs made their way out of my messy bun. About 8 of those wispy hairs made their way around the spinning handle.
Let’s just take a moment to recap, shall we?
I’m standing in my bathroom attempting to be a normal girl using a simple beauty device which I’d hoped would create this magical, picture-worthy, flawless skin. Instead I’m looking in the mirror to witness one eye closed, both eyes black from running mascara, red skin from the abrasive scrubbing and an oversized toothbrush still attached to the side of my head.
It was that very moment, I decided once and for all, I’m just not a beauty gadget kinda girl.