mascara

The more reality TV I watch, the more I notice one, highly specific effect: I become obsessed with the relative lushness of my eyelashes.

January f*cking sucks.

There’s a lot that can be learned from spending two to six hours a week being held hostage by ABC watching The Bachelor (despite what my therapist tries to tell me).

For the past few years weeks, I’ve been getting increasingly restless. (I’d call it spring fever but given the weather, that seems cruel.) Specifically, “restless” meaning I want to replace my entire wardrobe, dye my hair, and suddenly burst out of a winter cocoon into Spring Self 2.0.

If you want my honest opinion, there’s no bigger beauty faux pas then false lashes that look super fake.

By now you’re probably well aware that you can get just about anything on Amazon.

It was 2016, the year we fucking finally started giving a shit about our eyebrows.