I have always considered smoky, smoldering eyes to be very sexy in women. I would have loved to have eyes that hinted at labyrinths of mystery lurking in a finely cultivated mind.
Instead what I have are orbs that give the impression of a forager who has just spotted tasty bison meat.
Suffice to say, I do not have sexy eyes.
One day I tried, though. J and I were supposed to go to Fire and Ice. To achieve the said fetching look, I brought to my aid little pots, swabs, and wands. I applied a ‘charcoal’ eyeshadow and ‘ash’ base to my lids (it’s Maybelline, see, so it can’t be ‘grey’. It’s ‘charcoal’ or ‘ash’.) Then I coated my eyelashes to volumize or voluminize my lashes. (I have a problem spelling the word, so I leave it to the reader’s imagination on how I managed the process.)
At the end of it, I thought I looked nice. My eyes looked capable of giving the ‘come hither’ look. Some of the signature gluttony was masked by the mascara.
All done, I waited outside for J to turn up.
In the meantime, a neighbor I spoke with off and on, came by.
‘Hi’, he said.
‘How are you?’
‘Good.’ I fluttered my eyelashes, but only because three of them were clumping to form some sort of a solidarity club.
Then he looked a little more keenly into my face. A few lingering moments into my eyes and asked with concern, ‘Lot of work in office?’
Anyway....I have made peace with the fact that I can’t have sexy eyes. But I think my fingers wrapped around a tea-cup are pretty enticing.
And not in the way that suggests that I will pick up the tab.