When I was a young thing, I prided myself on my beautiful skin, so round, so firm I just knew I was one of God’s beautiful creatures, and strutted my stuff with pride, Now folks, I know I’ve aged slightly over the years, and now, “they” say on those TV shopping channel things, that I’m now needing all the help I can get.  Seems I need to buy about a zillion beauty products, just to show my face outside the door.

It wasn’t until I took off my bifocals, and pressed my face close to the mirror, that I realized they (whoever they are) were speaking the truth.  My stuff had strutted off without me, and was heading south at a kangaroo pace.

“What the heck are those dark lines over my eyes?” I scraped my fingers across one of them hoping to move it to the side. It didn’t budge. Using my common sense I figured that these must be my eyebrows that had been lodged behind my bifocals all this time, and here I thought that I only needed to trim my bangs.  I started the list of products I would need for repair.

I knew the eyebrow thing would be a painful journey. I couldn’t pluck that bush, and I’d need more than tweezers. I was afraid I’d need a suction cup to catch it all, not seeing and all. I was liable to grab an eyeball instead, so either I went to the gal who yanks the extra hair out by the roots, (I think they call that waxing), or I just had to find another way. I wanted the easy way out. I watched those gals on TV, rubbing that cream on their legs, so easy like, and wow no more hair. I think they called it Neet.

It was Neat all right! See here, those commercials don’t tell you the truth and all the truth. I put some on my bushy brows and the little bit of peach fuzz appearing over my upper lip. They give you lots of instructions, but they don’t tell you not to answer the phone. My gabby neighbor, Pheenie called, and by the time she stopped flapping her gums, and I wiped it off, I looked like a convict with red stripes, except the stripes were on my face. I could see that red with no bifocals! By the time I could show my face outdoors again, that darn hair had started to grow again.  It even scratched the pucker off of hubby Clem when he tried to get too close.

How about that wrinkle-free face cream. There are so many to choose from all promising me to look years younger. I figured I could room with Miss Olive Oil. She was corked in the cupboard. She would do just as good and wouldn’t require my winning the lottery for her service. Boy, if somebody wanted to find their way in the dark, all they had to do was shine one of those flashlights on my face and the reflection bounced around for miles. I could have been the poster gal for Oil of Old Lady.

I watched how they drew that eyeliner with a pencil on those gals on the shopping channel, and just knew I could use my old faithful HB soft type pencil. Another lie! Didn’t make my eyes come out at all, only my teeth when I choked on the results.

They put something on their cheeks and called it blusher. For heaven’s sake, I could get that for free too. A little beet juice would do the trick, and not only that, it could double for that nail and finger polish; three for the price of one beet.  A little bright, but sure did the trick.

Lipstick came next. I know why they call it lipstick. It sticks everywhere but your lips.  It stays on coffee cups, food, forks, everywhere your lips land. Try those beets again gals. It lasts all day too. One beet!  Hey I should get on that shopping channel and start my own Garden Cosmetics.by Ms. Klara

Well that‘s enough for this week folks. You’ll find me home primping on Monday, so I can go out to town on Friday.  When you see me on the street, and you think with all the fixing I’ve been doing to myself, that it did not improve my natural beauty one bit, please call “they” and tell them “they” are nuts.  Klara

Hi folks…if you know someone that needs a wee smile, just share this with them and if you have a mind…leave us a comments.  

 

 

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I’m Liz and I’m a Transformational Mind Coach I am the HEART SONG WHISPERER and I help women who have a longing in their heart and either don’t recognize their soul calling or for whatever reason are afraid to let it out.
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