The Great Mascara Revival

I just spent the past year and a half writing my memoir. Finished, I was rather at loose ends, not quite ready to dive into the next book—for so long every day started with writing the memoir. My memoir is a little different. It cuts from the present to the past and goes back and forth like this throughout the book.

I missed being able to comment about the everyday happenings in my rent-assisted apartment building: I'll call it Sullivan Court, here in frozen Canada.

For example, the latest event is: The Great Mascara Revival.

When I was fourteen years old I yearned, longed, fervently wished, to be beautiful. Beauty is important in my family (my Mother was a beauty), and now I was ugly. (Mother entered me in the Lakehead Exhibition Baby Contest. I won Most Beautiful Baby with my flaming red hair and blue eyes). But at 14, I had braids, fat cheeks, freckles, and invisible blonde eyelashes and eyebrows. I looked somewhat like an albino. (Apologies to albinos—they and myself would have been beautiful in Elizabeth Tudor's England: just look at paintings of her. No eyelashes, no eyebrows.) So, I wished. I also begged Mother to let me wear eye makeup. Nope. Too young.

Then came 16 and a miracle: Mother relented. She bought me black mascara and a light brown eyebrow pencil, both Maybelline. (Do you remember the song, "Maybelline?" 1955. Chuck Berry. Perhaps the earliest of all rock and roll songs. Great to jive to. All you spring chickens, Google it and enjoy.) I sat down in front of a magnifying shaving mirror, spit on the little pressed cake of mascara in the box, and rubbed the tiny brush across it, until it was loaded with mascara. Carefully, I brushed it on. Top and bottom eyelashes. My eyelashes, I discovered, were really long. Now they showed up! Next, I lightly penciled in over blonde hairs, my eyebrows. Then I took a good look in my dresser's big mirror. What a shock. I was completely transformed. I was a different person entirely. Dare I say without it seeming boastful? I was, by God, beautiful. Really.

After that, I never was seen in public or in private, without mascara. I wore waterproof mascara so I could cry in movies and not be revealed as ugly.

Then about 2 years ago, I got an eye infection. It got so bad, one eye was swollen shut. I was hospitalized and put on a drip antibiotic. Even so, it took 4 days for the infection to clear. Then the worst news: the doctor told me not to wear mascara until every smidgeon of infection was gone. I was devastated. I'd have to appear in public, with invisible lashes? So ugly. No one would like me. I wished I could wear a burka. But, after some silent moaning over my terrible fate, I accepted I'd have to face life with naked lashes. I guess I'd find out if people liked me even ugly with blonde eyelashes. Well, to my surprise, people didn't react in shock when they saw my naked lashes. They talked to me as though I was just a regular person. I marveled over this. Some actually liked me. Two years passed. I survived, despite my awful lashes. One day I was triggered* to try wearing mascara again. See if the eye infection would stay away.

I applied mascara and penciled in eyebrows. I wasn't prepared for the surprise registered by almost everyone who walked into my bedroom. (Bedroom because I can't walk very well, or sit, so I spend my days reclining.) My caregivers, my nurses, my delivery people, all of them stopped, gawked, gasped, and exclaimed: "You look so different. You look good." One deliveryman said, "Keep doing that."

Last night my nurse was Claudia. Claudia is a true beauty. When she saw the resusitated me she was excited and complimentary. I said, "Well, you're so beautiful, all the time, I'm sure.
           "No. Jackie. I must wear mascara, too. I never go out or even stay home, without it."
           We grinned, sharing a secret. We both dropped, in that flash of honesty, of no false modesty, that we were, with our mascara, indubitably, beautiful. But one can never admit one is beautiful. It sounds arrogant, narcissistic. But in that moment Claudia and I shared the truth. Hail, mascara!

To see me younger and with mascara, go to: jacquelinedacre.com

Comments

  1. The * beside "triggered " is a hint that another story is hidden in here that I may write about soon.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Jackie, I remember that guy whose book you were editing, unexpectedly coming to your door once and you panicked cos you hadn't put your eyebrows on yet. Lol. You told me about it and made it sound so funny.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Very funny, it made me "laugh out loud ". Can't wait for the next one ,,,

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Glad you caught the whimsy of it—the humour!

      Delete
    2. I loved it! I remember I would never leave my house without my mascara. We all know we look completely different. But after 2 kids, and finding my significant other as well as getting older I soon realized I would much rather get 30 minutes more sleep. If you don't like it, don't look. I just turned 43, maybe I'll feel differently as I get older. I'll have to buy new makeup, the mascara I have will probably come out in a clump. Hi Jackie, yes I read it!!

      Delete
    3. I loved it! I remember I would never leave my house without my mascara. We all know we look completely different. But after 2 kids, and finding my significant other as well as getting older I soon realized I would much rather get 30 minutes more sleep. If you don't like it, don't look. I just turned 43, maybe I'll feel differently as I get older. I'll have to buy new makeup, the mascara I have will probably come out in a clump. Hi Jackie, yes I read it!!

      Delete
    4. I loved it! I remember I would never leave my house without my mascara. We all know we look completely different. But after 2 kids, and finding my significant other as well as getting older I soon realized I would much rather get 30 minutes more sleep. If you don't like it, don't look. I just turned 43, maybe I'll feel differently as I get older. I'll have to buy new makeup, the mascara I have will probably come out in a clump. Hi Jackie, yes I read it!!

      Delete
  4. You're gorgeous no matter what! But I love this story!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi Scotia—Everyone is admiring the gorgeous gel nails you created for me. All want to know who did such a superb job—so I send them to you!

      Delete

Post a Comment

Popular Posts