Back to the Future

Puffy Eyes

A while ago, I decided to do something about my newly-puffy eyes. I headed to the cosmetics department of my favorite department store and asked for help from the perfectly-made-up saleswoman. She had the cream for me—a dab under each eye morning and night and no more bags, she promised. She said that no one had ever returned it.  So I handed over way too much money and was on my way.

Seven weeks later to the day, I returned to the counter to spoil the record of no returns.  I had a long conversation with a different saleslady.  She said she lived by that cream, that if I had used it properly and it hadn’t worked, I probably needed plastic surgery. 

I told her I was seventy-three and since my husband’s eyesight is failing, surgery seemed extreme. She said that I couldn’t be seventy-three (I was wearing my tight Brazilian jeans). Then she told me that having survived breast cancer surgery fifteen years ago, she would never elect a surgical procedure.  I told her I was glad she was still alive.  Then I bought everything I could think of—lipstick, eye shadow, mascara.  By the time I left, I had a new friend.

Now I have a new plan.  According to the Internet, top models fix puffy eyes with cucumber slices.

Next stop, the produce department. 





Feed You can follow this conversation by subscribing to the comment feed for this post.

The comments to this entry are closed.