Beauty makes me happy. Not the regular type of happy that comes with, say, impulse-buying a new lipstick, but overwhelmingly, massively, inordinately elated. The problem? I sometime take that obsession to the extreme.
Not only am I a compulsive product hoarder (read all about it here!), but I’ve also found myself taking weird risks, trying questionable ‘treatments,’ and acting on impulse, all in the name of looking better.
Below, here are 10 specifically crazy things I’ve done—or still do.
I ordered scary eyedrops from Japan because people on Amazon said so.
Let’s be real: Effing around with what you put in your eyes is risky business. BUT that didn’t stop me from running to order the OG of all eyedrops from Japan called Rohto Z! Pro. They’re the strongest eye drops on the market and I wanted to see what they felt like.
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Here’s an excerpt of one Amazon review: “These are the uncut heroin of eye drops. Sure, they cost a little more, but your eyes will know where that extra money went. First your eyes burn like you poured gasoline in them … but then 30-60 seconds later the pain subsides, and you open your eyes… to a whole new experience. They feel fresh and ‘minty’. It’s as if God was at that intersection and he got out his deity Windex and squeegie and cleaned your eyes for you.”
Um, if you can read that and not hit “buy now,” something’s wrong with you. Oh, and the best (read: most insane) part: The ingredients are all in Japanese so I still have no clue what I squeegied my eyes.
I’ve worked my way up to become a top reviewer on MakeupAlley.
Go ahead and scoff (all my friends do) but when it comes to matters of beauty, message-board culture and forums are basically my Mecca. I’m currently a “starred” reviewer on the site, and take my reviews VERY seriously. I consult my fellow obsessives before buying new products, and I post about the ones I love, hate, and think could be better.
I put Rogaine on my eyebrows
And it WORKS.
One word: Crisco.
Last winter, I was baking (a rare, rare occurrence indeed) and was transfixed by how smooth and white and creamy Crisco is. I had a gut feeling it would work wonders on my dry skin, and started furiously Googling “Crisco on your face.” Turns out, I was right: Crisco only contains vegetable oils like soybean, which evens skin tone, moisturizes, softens and fights wrinkles, softening cottonseed oil, and antioxidants.
One blog even posed the ever-seductive question: “Is Crisco better than Creme de la Mer?” That’s all it took for me to start slathering it on my face and my legs when they’re extra dry.
I washed my hair almost 48 hours before my wedding.
Any girl who just said “ewwww” clearly isn’t a beauty fanatic, since everyone knows second-day hair is unquestionably the jam. I decided I wanted to wear my thick, wavy hair down but too-perfect, Shirley Temple waves wasn’t what I going for.
The solution: Getting it done the Friday morning of my wedding. By Saturday, it loosened up, appeared slightly tousled and cool, and just sort of looked like I threw on a white dress. I also did my own makeup for the occasion, which you can read about here.
I put a 400-degree flaming rod near my face after happy hour.
You know what’s NOT a smart idea: Deciding, after a few glasses of wine, that your hair looks too flat and you break out your Amika clampless waving iron. Yes, I have a small scar on my forehead. #NeverAgain.
I bleached my own hair.
When ombré hair was a thing, I was a staunch devotee. However, I’d found that my color was constantly turning orange-y when I’d get it done at fancy salons, so I took matters into my own hands—literally. I marched into CVS and bought an old-school frosting kit. (Clairol Frost & Tip). I applied to my ends and after 15 minutes rinsed. The placement of the color was great, but it was definitely light orange, not beachy blonde. Yuck.
After some online message-board research, I went to Ricky’s in NYC the next day and bought Wella’s T14 toner (formerly Silver Lady) and #20 developer. I poured 1 oz. of toner into a bowl with 2 ounces of developer and mixed. It turned blue, which is what neutralizes orange tones. Long story short(er), I got a cool-toned blonde that wasn’t brassy. Yes, I’m available for housecalls.
I ironed my hair—with an actual iron.
No, not with a Chi, with a BLACK AND DECKER. When my mom told me she used to use an actual iron to make her hair stick-straight in the ’60s and ’70s, I obviously had to try it (mind you, this was during the early Aughts when hair like straw was my life’s main goal.) It kind of did the trick from the middle down, but ironing curly roots is not for the meek. My head basically looked like spaghetti after it’s been cooked on top, and before it’s been cooked on the bottom. Hot.
I spent $100 on a literal drop of perfume.
A few years ago, I became wildly obsessed with a specific boutique fragrance that’s only available in Paris (meh) and was sold out everywhere at the time. I may or may not have happily coughed up $100 (plus tax!) for one tiny ounce from a third-party seller that may or may not have been legit.
I stayed on the phone with customer service for an hour about a $5 discontinued blush.
When I graduated college, I discovered a super-bright, crazy-pigmented flamingo-pink blush made by Milani, an inexpensive drugstore brand that me and my sister both hoarded. We’d use it on our lips and our cheeks, and it was amazing.
When it was discontinued, I called up the brand and spent over an hour hounding customer service offering to buy leftovers, asking about where any overstock might be, and why it was getting the axe. I didn’t get any good answers, but I clearly remember believing that hour on the phone taking precedence over important post-grad stuff like finding a job.
There you have it, only a few of the insane things I’ve done for my love of beauty. Weigh in below with yours—I really want to know!
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