The Eye

Logs onto YouTube. Browses through the recommendations. "This looks interesting. Ohhh how to do a smoky eye. Let me watch." With vigorous enthusiasm I play the video. The beauty guru goes to to explain the products to be used. "Oh ok. I can do this." I'm still at the peak of alertness and excitement. "Ahaan. OK. An eye shadow palette. Wait!I need a primer." But she says you could also use a concealer. I'm so confused right now. Different sorts of brushes." Wait where am I supposed to get all this from?" And does a blending brush differ from the other cuticle shaped brush? This is too much information and tools. "I'm going to sit through this." Restlessness starts creeping in. "I can do this." The video goes on to show the various colors used in highlighting, smoking, blending out. And then pops the winged liner. "OMG!!I can so do that." Topped off with fake lashes and mascara. The beauty guru goes on to say how the look accentuates the eyes and can be used in various types of occasions. 

"Imma start right now."I turn up the music.Meghan Trainor's - Me Too blasting off in the bathroom. Mom yells at me to turn it down.I get all the items necessary for the look. Start of with the base color. "Ok that looks fine. Let me get the darker color." Nervous giggles erupt from within my very core. Blend. Blend. Blend. "That doesn't look bad" But I know how it looked, I was in a state of transformation into a zombie or achieving Edward Norton's eyes from The Fight Club. I take my liquid liner. *deep breaths*. I start from the center and make my way outwards. A flick. *pause* Left eye looks ok. Let me try the right one. Flick*pause* They both look like a pair of siblings who hate each other. *drops of dread sets in* "I'll just extend the other line again." The dance continues. "Gosh it's so hot. Who turned down the AC." No sooner had I done it, I look into the mirror and see a distressed raccoon-human hybrid staring back at me. 

What is this atrocity? I start contemplating on my life and where I have gone wrong. My self esteem has dropped 20 floors down the building. I stare into the mirror, the remnants of what I used to be. I saw a hint of myself peeking back through the eyes, glistening with tears of an unknown emotion. My blood starts to boil. I see the lips in the mirror attaining a feral growl, building deep inside my chest. I wash my face. How idiotic of me, assuming water is going to take off everything. I look into the mirror again. My untamed hair looking wild around my face (most days I could pull off the wild hair with sass but not today).The raccoon has now turned into the ghost: Kayako Saeki from The Grudge. At least my feelings are in tune with the look. A scrubbed face devoid of all the drama that occurred over the last hour vanished. I stare at my chubby face. "I look better like this. Who needs makeup." I put on my spectacles, grab a book from the bookshelf, settle down in the black armchair which my mom frequently tells me has merged and become one with my posterior much to her disappointment and irritation, and proceed daydreaming to a different world of expeditions and evil curses coming to life and infecting everyone.