If I were a strategic feminist, here’s how I would achieve family-friendly employment policy:

• Place women in the human resource departments.  
• Make the American economy dependent on women in the workforce.
• Position a female candidate in the race for President.
• Give every woman who wants one a pen and a public forum.

Wait, go down and check out who’s in your H.R. department, watch a Democratic debate, look around your office and count the women, click on a blog.

Post from: Blisstree

Strategic Feminist

I’ve had a second child since then and I have had five years to reflect on the massive overhaul of identity that happens when independent and empowered women become mothers and I’ve never felt like the reality of what becoming a whole new entity gets any validity.

So allow me to rant about becoming Mommy. Maybe, if you’re a new mom and feeling not at all like yourself and kind of depressed, you can relate. And hopefully, actually my prayer is, that if you find yourself relating this will bring you a little bit of peace about what you’re going through.

In America we totally minimize birth and the real trauma of the whole ordeal. One minute you’re You. A woman who gets things done. Maybe you order underlings around at work or earn the respect of coworkers with your skills. You have money to play around with, gets to wear clothes you like, cash a paycheck and invest in whatever. You make deals or writes articles or manage a business or do whatever you do in your career. You communicate with adults frequently and daily on an intellectual level.

Your body was yours and you shared it when you felt like it and didn’t when you didn’t want to. You had a regular cycle and hormones that had been predictable.  Therefore you’d learned how to manage your monthly issues since you were 12. 

Now BAM you’re body has experienced this traumatic violent event – birth. Personally, I thought it was about as violent as being hit by a car. You wouldn’t emotionally bounce back from that in six weeks, I don’t understand why Americans expect women to bounce back from birth in a month and a half. The event changed your hormones, shape, vajayjay and everything else about you. You gave up your body for nine months to grow a foreign life and told yourself you’d be back to normal after birth. Dream On. Now you’re a milk machine. Now you smell of puke. Now you never sleep.

You feel like you are no longer YOU anymore. Your whole entire identity has gone through a dramatic and intense transformation. That’s takes more than six weeks or twelve weeks or four months or a year to adjust to. You don’t do the things that used to define You as You.

If you’re staying at home not working means you’re not getting any outside validation for the job you’re doing. You’re getting no paycheck. You’re only getting poopy diapers and the occasional smile or giggle, but it’s hard to cash that at the bank. You have to cut costs as expenses rise and you kind of resent not having your hair done like you used to.

Your husband thinks you’re doing fandiddly-taskic – so obviously he’s not very tuned in to what is actually going on with you. Which equals even less validation. But, there’s no way he can really understand because becoming Dad may be an awesome journey for him, but he’s still going to work, cashing a check and gets a lot of time away from the needy baby. And no one is sucking on his body half the day.

So what I’m saying is that what you are going through is NORMAL. It sucks but it’s normal. You are doing everything right. What you are doing does matter in the long run and it’s a valid and legitimate thing to be doing right now. You just have to realize that you are never ever going to get the same emotional kick-back from diapers and naps that you used to get cutting a massive deal in pharmaceuticals or whatever you did. The pay-off is different and there’s not a lot of instant gratification staying home with a baby. It takes time and practice to get used to. 

I now believe that being a stay-at-home-mom is a craft. Just like writing or any other profession. You have to learn how to do it. You have to make a structure for yourself. If you wake up everyday and just wander around and only do whatever you feel like doing then you will become clinically depressed. Period. You used to look forward to weekends cause it was Your time-off. But, now what do you look forward to? I can tell you the answer – you look forward to your husband coming home from work and you look forward to his time off.

I know you don’t want to, but you really have to get out of the house every single day for something – anything. A walk. A neighbor’s house. A grocery store trip. A mommy-baby sign language class. You have to leave the house daily.

You also have to “accomplish” at least one thing every day so you don’t feel like a total loser. Laundry is something. Cleaning the bathroom is something. Doing a budget is something. Find something every day that you can accomplish and then feel proud of yourself for doing it.

And really you must ditch that baby! If you are taking the baby on your dates with hubby, that’s ridiculous! You mustleave the baby sometimes or you will lose Self. If You lose You all is lost, because the baby needs You to be You and not some drone who smells like puke and feels like crap. Go out with other women without the baby. Supplement with formula or pump, it’s not that big of a deal. Join a book club. Go to a movie. Go out to dinner. Join a gym and leave her in the nursery for an hour while you work out or take a yoga class. You can not become only mom. You must also be You who has other interests outside the home. Otherwise you’re just the weird crazy lady who believes the baby will die if she goes out to lunch. That’s the definition of insanity! The baby can be without you for a few hours. The baby shouldbe without you for a few hours or she will have attachment issues in only a few short months and that will not be fun for you or her.

Stop reading parenting magazines. They should all be titled “How many ways can you accidentally kill your baby.” They induce anxiety and you do not need that much information. They are full of crap most of the time. Too much information is just scaring you can creating anxiety. You don’t need to know about every freak accident that might possibly happened to a kid. Throw them away, stop your subscription and buy Secrets of the Baby Whisperer: How to Calm, Connect, and Communicate with Your Baby. She’ll give sound advice without making you a panicked mess.

Honestly, physiologically and psychologically, you need to exercise. You just have to force yourself to do it. The endorphins you get from exercise are worth any anti-depressant on the market. Your poor body just went through a massive hormonal surge with way to much estrogen and then almost none overnight. Be kind to your new body and feed your brain some endorphins.

You probably don’t want to follow this advice if you’re suffering from PPD, but get off your butt and do it anyway.

If you are having compulsive thoughts about hurting yourself or your baby, which now that my child is five, I will admit to having had them. You need to tell your OB/GYN that you’re having brief flickering thoughts of hurting your self (really, I think that’s enough information to give him a picture of what’s going on without getting any authorities involved) and get some medication. The Le Leche League has a list of anti-depressants that you can take while breast feeding.

That said, I wonder if what new moms are really experiencing is a full-blown identity crisis resulting from adding MOM to the mix of SELF.

Post from: Blisstree

Mommy Pains, PPD or Identity Crisis?

This is in response to the whopping $138,000 that Salary.com claims at-home-mothering is worth based on the many roles moms fill. Blumner writes, “stay-at-home moms need to understand the reality of their choice. They are handicapping their future financial security and that of their children by being economically dependent on a man.”

She is absolutely right. But, so what?

I tried to ignore my maternal instincts and work full-time with the kids in daycare. I tried to buy into the whole “have it all” career and kids feminist promise. Believe me, I desperately wanted it to work out. I wanted to be the ambitious professional, the wonderful mother who doled out the quality time to my kids, maintaining my financial independence and loving every second of it.

It SUCKED!

“The consequences of economic dependency are the subject of a new book, The Feminine Mistake, by Leslie Bennetts, a contributing editor for Vanity Fair, who has raised two children along with her husband, while maintaining a professionally fulfilling and money-making career. Her blunt but honest thesis that stay-at-home moms have made a choice that “represents a fundamental abdication of responsibility for their own lives, ” has made the dependent class positively apoplectic,” writes Blumner.

Okay, so I’m pretty much financially dependent right now while I raise my little kids – four more years to go until Mr. Z trots off to kindergarten. I guess I’m “abdicating the responsibility for my own life.” Since abandoning my full-time career, I’ve seen my husband’s income rise and there is no doubt if I return to the corporate structure I might never get back to an equal salary.

I’m totally making the “feminine mistake.”  

Except that I don’t base my self-worth or the worthiness of my entire life on financial independence. Is financial independence the end all be all? Should all other aspects of life – spiritual, maternal, emotional, and physical be fundamentally based on my economic ability to walk away from my marriage?

Is that what feminism is really all about? Must we shut off the maternal desire we have to be the one who raises our own kids? I feel like it is my right, responsibility and privilege to be the one who spends the majority of their day with them. I feel like the first 5 years is when they develop a fundamental self, I insist that it’s my influence as their mother that is priceless. No amount of financial security can buy it or replace it.

It’s my maternal desire, my motherlove, such old-school feminist arguments ignore.

Feminism demanded the right to work, the right to equal compensation. But, maybe it’s time to expand the definition.

It is time for feminists to reject the completely masculine 40 hour, Monday through Friday, be in the office for every minute, work overtime if necessary to get ahead, paradigm of working.

Rather than adapt careers and professions to the women who were entering them in mass, the mass of women tried to adapt into a male paradigm that originated when there was a housewife at home managing children and home.

The result is that it’s too hard to pull off having a family. Kids, with two full-time working parents spend the majority of their waking hours in daycare. Literally. This is unfair to kids and my maternal desire just couldn’t make peace with that reality.

Those old-school feminists who insist I should “opt back in” to maintain my financial independence made some sacrifices I’m not willing to make. What they haven’t done, but what I would like to see them do, is make the working environment (in which they have struggled their way to the top) more inviting to the feminine.

Women make up nearly half of the working masses. Perhaps we’re now in a position to demand a work day consistent with school hours, real virtual work arrangements, less hostility to sick children or field trip excuses. Work environments that recognize my motherlove and maternal desire to be the biggest influence and spend actual time (rather than quality time) with my kids.

Post from: Blisstree

Motherhood – paid nothing, worth nothing?

The first is the obvious – political and socio-economic power. Duh, 43 male presidents, history books full of men doing heroic and powerful things. All the men running companies, having the predominate power in all religions. I expect feminism, enlightenment and time to take care of this one. They had a good head-start and women are making great strides – thank you Nancy Pelosi, the first female Speaker of the House of Representatives, and all women everywhere for bringing about change.

Then there is the actual penis. The benefit of having this physical member versus the vagina is simple – they can pee standing up. If you’ve ever gone hiking, camping, driving across the country and decided it’s time to pee in the woods the benefit of having a penis you can just whip out is evident. It is definately less convenient to have to strip half naked and squat. There is more risk and less modesty in the postures women must assume in order to relieve themselves in the wilderness or on the side of the road in the vast flatness of the desert. Not to mention the inconvenience of having to wipe, versus just sticking it back in your pants. Really, there is nothing we can do about this.

The third is simple physical strength. I’m a go-getter kind of girl. If I want something done around the house and I can manage to do it then I will. I might ask my husband to do this or that, but he has come to know that I am as capable as he of fixing-up things and so expects me to do it.  I admit I find it frustrating that there are things I must have someone else do. For instance, lift the 150 pound air conditioner into the window. The repair guy is telling me he doesn’t want to be liable if it falls out. There is no way I can do it myself. I’m just not physically strong enough. I don’t want to ask my husband to do it because I want to avoid the frustration of nagging him for several weeks while we swelter in the heat. (Yes, in Texas there is already heat.) I have been down that road and know it ends in both of us being frustrated and irritated – me for the chore not being done and he for being nagged. That’s why I HIRED the repair guy.

So, I will do what men can not get away with. I will beg and plead and pay and even bat my eyes and use the “I was doing this as a suprise for him,” ploy. I’ll even write up and sign a liability waver so that these two electricians will install the air conditioner. 

I don’t suppose my husband could get away with that. So, there are benefits to being a woman.

Post from: Blisstree

Penis Envy

Often I forget I have it and wonder why people look at me funny. Then I remember and I chuckle and it’s like an internal comedy for me, because otherwise I’m a typical soccer mom.

However, a recent visit to my hairdresser proved a disaster and now I’m walking around with BAD pink hair.

A friend of mine thinks I can pull off pink hair effortlessly. This is untrue, it takes an enormous amount of balls and self-confidence to wear pink hair in East Texas. In New York, where we used to live, most people wouldn’t give me a second glance. But, here it’s another story. I realize that people must get over the pink hair as a sort of hurdle when they interact with me. It takes an enormous amount of faith in the inherent goodness of people to believe they will make the effort to jump the hurdle and deal with me on certain level even though I have pink hair.

This is much easier when I have confidence that my hair is beautiful and cool and just the right amount of rebellious. I had this confidence last week.

But, now my hair looks sloppy. There are several different colors of pink for starters. There is only supposed to be one color for the look I was going for. Now I have cotton candy mixed with pepto bismal mixed with neon mixed with fuscia. Which is also mixed with various colors of blond and brown. And all this color, or any combination thereof, is on one strand of hair. This is not the look I was attempting.

The other issue is that she didn’t actually get to my roots when she colored it. In some places it is a few centimeters of brown and then pink. In some it’s a few centimeters of blond then pink. So, there is an uneven line of all of these colors framing my face when I wear a pony tail, which I do practically every day do to my being blessed with very thick hair that tends to feel like a wool hat in the heat.

So, I should go back to the hairdresser and demand that it be fixed right? You do not know my hairdresser. She is a special brand of hairdresser. Without being uncharitable, let’s just say that I am too afraid to confront her about the sloppy results of my hair and then allow her to apply chemicals to my head. It’s too risky. I don’t think she can take the criticism without becoming angry and I don’t think she has the emotional control to not take her anger out on my hair. I’m afraid if I pursue that course of action, I will just have to shave my head and start over and frankly, I don’t have enough guts, confidence or bravado to pull off bald.

Financially, I’m not in a position to go see someone else for a few weeks and really, in East Texas who is going to have pink hair color in stock if it’s not Halloween?

So, for now it appears that I am stuck with BAD pink hair and will have to fake the confidence it takes to pull it off.

What’s interesting to me though is the fact that The Universe gave me plenty of warning that this would happen. I had an appointment weeks ago and when I showed up she told me she didn’t have the color yet. I was annoyed she didn’t call, but didn’t confront her because as I previously mentioned – I’m scared of making her angry while she applies chemicals to my head. So, I just rescheduled.

Next week. Same exact thing happened again. Didn’t call. Didn’t get the color. I rescheduled.

The next week I called her several times to make sure she was getting it. Apparently, the brand she likes isn’t in stock. I offer to buy it online if she’ll tell me what it is and she acts like my newfangled machines can’t get this brand of hair color. Finally, she’s found a substitute pink color and I’ve lined up yet another babysitter for my appointment.

The night before the appointment my cousin says she would love to color my hair. She’ll go buy the stuff and do both me and my daughter matching pink streaks. But, I’m nervous it won’t look good and I already have the appointment and all. So I blow this opportunity – in retrospect perhaps it was an omen – off.

The whole time I have a nervous feeling about it. I mean, why is she there 12 hours a day and when does she sleep if she’s going to take appointments everyday until 10 pm? The whole time I know the later my appointment, the more likely she’ll be tired and sloppy. People only have so much energy.

All these omens I ignored. Should’ve, would’ve, could’ve.

Now, I’ll have to live with sloppy pink hair until I find someone I trust to fix it and come up with the extra cash to spend on it.

Post from: Blisstree

Pink Hair Fiasco

I had this boss last year who was a “mean girl.” She was such a cliché that I found it rather funny and was able to see her from the outside of the situation and not internalize her opinion of me – sort of.

She pulled me out back where she would smoke and pretend to be my friend and very seriously she said,

You can’t keep coming to work with your hair like that. It is not appropriate for it to be pulled back and it looks horrible. You really shouldn’t get highlights if you can’t afford to keep them up. Who is your hairdresser? 

And something has to happen with your clothes. I mean, don’t you own anything brown? I think brown would be a better choice. I’m embarrassed for our customers to see you, which is why I keep you hidden in the back.  

You must understand why I was simply stunned by these comments. This was a casual work environment with no dress code. Everyday she and her husband, the owners and therefore the people who I looked to for my clothing direction, wore shorts, flip-flops and jeans. I was growing out my hair and had taken to pulling it back in a neat bun or pony tail to keep it from hanging in my face. I had roots, for sure, because I was working this part-time job to pay off debt not to keep up my highlights.

I agonized over what exactly the difference between my clothes and theirs were and the only thing I could come up with, because we were all wearing shorts, t-shirts and flip-flops, was the fact that their flip-flops were designer and mine were $3 from K-Mart. Their shorts were from the Gap and mine from a garage sale. Their t-shirts had a designer logo and mine did not.

So I made a trip to the Gap and spent a staggering $240 of our emergency fund – you know the fund that’s supposed to pay the rent if the primary income disappears for some unforeseeable reason. I really had no fun buying the six pieces I bought because I am terminally cheap – out of necessity. And I made an appointment with a higher class hairdresser to get my roots done. She loved the Gap outfits, khaki capris that seemed exactly the same as the knock-off version I had worn the week before.

But, she had to pull me out back again to ask me why on earth the hairdresser would pull my hair through a cap.

I don’t know why she would do that, I just figured if I paid her a whopping $80 of my emergency fund then she would know what was best to do for my hair.  

Again the lecture about me not being in a position to have highlights and I should just grow my hair out. Several months later my co-worker told me that my boss had worked as a prestigious hairdresser for the last 20 years and had only recently begun managing the studio. All the sudden there was clarity about the baffling amount of attention she had bestowed upon my roots.

I got pregnant about a month after buying the Gap clothes, and promptly grew right out of them, not only did she express annoyance that this interfered with her plans for me as her employee, but she was downright rude and mean.

We really can’t afford for you to be gone during our Christmas rush. I mean, you’ve got to be 3-4 months pregnant right? She said while looking straight at my tummy in a disgusted way.

Actually, I’m four or five WEEKS pregnant and won’t be having the baby until March or April.  

Well, we hired you on the assumption that you would be here for a long time and training you is an investment for us. Are you planning on returning to work or what? Can you even afford daycare for two kids if you intend to come back? 

I’m a reporter who has extensively reported on the Family Medical Leave Act and discrimination about pregnancy issues and such matters. I am well aware that what she said was illegal. But, actually I did want to go back after I had the baby. Or at least, I wanted that door to be open for me so I could make the choice. But, I was also aware that FMLA didn’t protect me because there were only four employees in the whole company and the law protects small business before protecting pregnant employees. All of which is beside the point of my story.

The point is that she was exhibiting classic, junior high school, mean girl behavior toward me because really she was just a snob. Maybe she felt inferior because I had artistic skills and she only did the books or maybe she was feeling intimidated by my education and credentials and wanted me to be aware that she was the boss and I was her underling. Whatever – she was resorting to junior high tactics in an adult world. Maybe she was having flashback of her own “oil field trash” background and was terrified that my poverty might leak out all over her. I can’t really say.

I just tried to stifle the laughter when she was pretending not to be aware that this was what she was doing. Of course, they found a reason to “lay me off” after the Christmas rush. They just didn’t want to deal with a pregnant employee and maternity leave and whether I was coming back or not. Really, I just think that size 0 princess couldn’t stand to look at me. They had to pay unemployment though because it not like someone 7 months pregnant is really employable.

I want to say that I didn’t internalize any of it, because I’m so mature that I could stand outside of it and see that she is just a sad figure that crossed my path.

But, I did get pink highlights. Why? Because I CAN! Take that Tammy Bean (obviously this is not her real name), I can have my hair anyway I want. If I want highlights, I am within my rights to have them and if I want to have pink hair – well, I don’t have a boss or a principal, so I can. And if I want to wait 4 months to get my roots done, then I will.  

Post from: Blisstree

Because I Can

Trashy television confession:

I watch The Girls Next Door and find it totally amusing. You know it’s the reality television series where we get to see how Hugh Hefner’s harem lives.

Understand, I KNOW it’s trash. I would never let my daughter see me watch it, I record it on my DVR and watch after she’s asleep.

What I find interesting about it is not only the exaggerated femininity of the three girlfriends, Holly, Bridget and Kendra. But, I find the fact that they are all vanilla ice cream quite ironic.

I imagine that if I were Hugh Hefner I would want a harem of different types of ice cream. You know women of different types and flavors, but Hef, apparently he only likes platinum long-haired blonds with the same plastic surgeon and the same general size 2 body type. It’s kind of boring to my mind. But, apparently after 80-something years he’s just stuck with the same vanilla ice cream and he likes it.

Trashy television confession #2:

I psychoanalyze the girls. I mean, I actually find them amusing, and I get concerned for their welfare. It does not surprise me at all that Hef is able to find an endless supply of blond, implanted women to serve as his playthings. I mean, women settle for a hell of a lot less than the

Kendra seems the most emotionally stable to me. She seems to understand that she’s getting a pretty fun free ride at the

Bridget, however, I just don’t know about her. She holds a master’s degree, so she’s obviously smart and has potential to pursue an empowered life after Hef gets bored with her. But, I just don’t think she’s dealing with her real issue – which is the obsessive need for other people to find her pretty. All that education aside, she can not get over the need to for others to think she’s pretty enough to be in Playboy. Her life story is about the pursuit of the approval of others. She’s wanted to be in Playboy her whole life and was crushed when they rejected her twice before. When Hef finally let the three of them do a Playboy spread this was the big accomplishment of Bridget’s life. It was finally the outside validation that Bridget needed – You are pretty enough to be in Playboy. Okay, so mission accomplished. But, I worry that when this ride through Hef’s Harem ends, I worry that she will still need the validation and being herself and thinking her own self is pretty just won’t be enough. How sad will the rest of her life be then? Hopefully, her news casting talk show thing will pan out.

Then we come to Holly. She is the one I worry about most. She’s the main girlfriend. And her ambition is to become Hugh Hefner’s wife! How completely out of touch with reality is that? He’s Hugh Hefner! He’s 80-something years old. He’s not going to change. He has no reason to change. He’s found the lifestyle he enjoys and makes no pretense about it. He’s a playboy. He’s tried on the husband and father persona, decided they weren’t for him and cast them in the garbage. Poor stupid Holly apparently found these personas in the trash and brought them back in the house hoping he’d like to try them again. She’s actually said, “In five years Hef will realize he doesn’t need the other girls and I will be enough for him and he will marry me and we’ll live here together.” What? Who? The dirty old man will be going on 90 and she’s expecting a last-minute change of heart. Expecting him to be someone he’s not interested in being.

Jeez, how many of us can relate to that? Wanting a guy to be someone he’s just not, but refusing to believe him when he tells us exactly who he is. 

Post from: Blisstree

3 Scoops of Vanilla

I I saw this woman who had sextuplets on Oprah last week. When they told her she was pregnant with an entire litter of babies she had the only rational and sane response I’ve ever heard of – she had a mini-nervous breakdown and had to be immediately hospitalized for shock. I imagine I might have the same response. I think having one baby at a time is a lot of stress and always prayed I would not have twins to double my stress. But, sextuplets. . . reminds me of that old ‘80s song by, who?, maybe REM, I think that God’s got a sick sense of humor and when I die, I expect to find him laughing.

May I recommend a new show on the Discovery Health Channel, Jon and Kate plus 8. This seemingly normal couple got married and seemed destined for an average life, then they had twins. Okay, still pretty normal existence now that the twins are weaned and out of diapers. Then Kate, and Jon will never let her forget it, wants one more baby – a sibling for their twin girls. Jon thinks, hey two is plenty, let’s just go about our normal life. Kate insists on one more. I bought one and got five free, she says on the show.

I love this type of television because it makes me feel so abundantly blessed to not be quite so abundantly blessed.

I mean, thank you God for not blessing me with twins and sextuplets!

If any family deserves their own television show it has to be this one. They have a dry sense of humor and really, that might be the only way they will survive. It’s a really good show about their day to day existence which is now anything but ordinary. Their grocery bill at Sams was over $1,000. Think about paying that bill next time your checking out. Could you even cover that and your mortgage?

It’s great family television to watch with your kids. I seriously giggle in sympathy every time I see this family. Then I quickly want to throw salt over my shoulder and knock on some wood to somehow prevent anything similar from happening to me.

God bless Jon and Kate Gosselin.

Post from: Blisstree

Jon and Kate plus 8

The whole time they are bashing her I’m thinking, what a great idea, except that it’s too permanent if you goof up.

Truth be known sometimes I stare at women for long enough to make them uncomfortable. It’s embarrassing, but really I’m just trying to figure out how they got their eye liner to look so good. Frankly, liquid eye liner is their secret most of the time, but I just do not have a steady hand and end up looking like a raccoon. Or a five-year-old who got hold of mommy’s eye liner. So usually I settle for a line of eye shadow or cream liner or go with just shadow and mascara, but I always wish I were more accomplished with the dramatic smoky eye.

Enter Stacy London’s new show Shut Up, It’s Stacy London on TLC. I love TLC and I generally watch What Not To Wear when there is not much else to watch. Secretly, I always kind of expect to see myself on the show, or at least be reported by one of my friends. This is probably because when they are trashing (literally throwing all of the victim’s clothes in the trash can) someone’s clothes I usually am wondering, hey what’s wrong with a faux fur coat with brass buttons straight from 1972? I love mine!

So, I’m working out and watching Stacy manufacture a party-like atmosphere for her new fashion talk show.  And out pops this:

Eye Definer Felt-Tip Eye Marker by Physicians Formula

It’s really a Sharpie as eye liner! I figure the Universe must be granting my wish. So, the next time I’m at the drug store I hid the new eye liner between the teething gel and the tampons and spend $6.99 on my new eye liner. I know, I deserve eye liner, but it always feels like less of an extravagance if I sandwich it between two necessities that I must buy. I still feel incredibly guilty if I just buy a new, risky product by itself.

It totally works just like liquid eye liner! It’s as simple as a felt tip marker and you can fix errors with a spit-on Q-Tip. I bought ultra-black and I’m going back for the brown next time I need shampoo or toothpaste.

You should try it.

p.s. Unfortunately I received no compensation from Physicians Formula for this blog entry.

Post from: Blisstree

Felt Tip Marker