Searching at Sephora

For the last week or so, I've been quite busy finishing up projects at work and preparing for vacation at home.  There is a garment rack up in one of spare rooms that I have dubbed "Packing Central."  Hangers with carefully chosen tops and bottoms are added or subtracted and little stacks of jewelry, accessories, and too many SHOES begin to litter the staging area.  In the bathroom are rows of small, travel-sized bottles to be refilled.  On the desk in Sam's office, all the electronics and charging cords are laid out.

Then there are the endless lists of errands and tasks.  Get one done and think of 2 more.

• Need to go to the pharmacy before I can pack medications
• Should probably get some extra cash at the bank
• Haircut, for sure!
• Catch up on the laundry
• Where the hell did I put the swimsuits? 

At the bottom of the list, I added "Sephora."  I certainly don't buy all my make-up there.  I would need to get a part time job to pay for it.  Usually Target or Walgreen's is fine with me.  However, as the years take their toll, there are a few things for which I will spend a bit more.  Needed Bobbi Brown concealer, and since it was my birthday month, I also had a free product gift and mini-makeover!  Trust me, at my age, it's going to take more like a major miracle to make any difference. 


I was up and dressed early on Saturday.  Laundry was well on its way to being completed.  Sam was semi-awake and having coffee at his computer as I grabbed my purse and the list of errands for the day.

"Hold on there, Lady.  There's something we need to take care of this morning."


Sam is a bit too dependable when it comes to what he calls a "weekend adjustment."  Others of you might call it "maintenance," but Sam once said that sounds like something you do to a truck, not your wife.  So he and Mr. Paddle generally provide a reminder of the behaviors I need to keep uppermost in my mind on our Saturday and Sunday.  He talks and paddles.  I respond and make lots of noise.



"So what do we need to remember?" he begins.

"Ouch, kindness, yes. Ow!  Yes, kindness and patience."

"I'm listening...," he encourages me to go on.

"OK, yes, patience Um.... with the dogs and ....patience when I am

driving.  Patience, yikes!  Geez, Sam!  Ow!"  He was not the least bit upset with me, but my eyes were watering profusely.  That damn little paddle!

"And what else... how about thinking before we speak?" he coached.

"No. Yes!  No bossiness - no bossiness at all."

"That's one to remember.  Always makes for a better weekend.  And .....?"  Mr. Paddle paused for a bit, and I was wracking my brain.

"Sensible food - for sure, Sam!

"Bingo!" and he punctuated this expression with a few more whacks.  And then there were several rounds with his hand and some nice rubbing going on.

"I love you, Lady.  I love you and your pretty pink butt."  He pulled me up off his knee and the bed for kisses and hugs and one last smack on the bottom.  It is always this little moment that makes me feel most loved.  This little moment that I dreamed about for my whole life long.

Retrieved jeans and panties with a smile, but then I pulled a tissue and saw my face in the mirror.  My mascara had smeared and run from all those tears.  Good god ..... I looked like something from The Walking Dead !  

Later, as I wandered through Sephora, I thought that it is too bad that someone has not developed a "spank-proof" mascara.  Certainly, in my experience, "waterproof" is NOT the same as spank-proof.  I stopped walking for a minute and started to daydream.

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"May I help you this morning?"  smiled this young woman armed with a slotted bag of make-up brushes slung on her hip.  

"Thank you, miss.  Actually, besides some concealer, I was hoping to find some spank-proof mascara.  I don't imagine you can help me with that."

"Au contraire, I would be happy to help you find something to fit the bill."  I followed her to a wide display unit filled with expensive-looking jars, tubes, and pencils.  "Here we are.  This one might do the trick.  Says it has a rating of 3 on the DGT scale."

"Sorry, the 'DGT' did you say?  I'm not familiar with that," I questioned.

"Oh, that must be why you can't find a proper mascara.  It stands for Damn Good Thrashing.  The numerical rating is to indicate the level of protection.   With a rating of 3, this one should be just fine for a hand spanking."



Thinking of my recent discussion with Mr. Paddle, I asked, "Do you have anything with a higher rating?" and then followed her to another counter with all the items done in pinks and reds.


She picked up a red tube and pulled out the wand.  It was shaped like a tiny little paddle.  "This might work better for you for several

reasons.  The wand has a special shape to really give your lashes lots of volume, and it has a DGT rating of 6.5.  This mascara should stay in place even when a leather or wooden paddle is used.  Even a lightweight flogger should be no problem."

I was just about to tell the girl to ring me up when I thought of a package that was on its way from a dear friend in the UK.  "So just how high does the DGT rating go?" I asked hesitantly.  "Ummm ... I think there is a gift coming from England."

"Oh, dear me," she said with a worried look on her face.  "The Brits are really round the twist when it comes to canes!  Does this person really like you?"  

"I think so," I said hopefully.

"Well, it is quite the most expensive tube of mascara in the whole store, but worth every penny if you expect it to last through a caning.  The DGT rating is a 10!  It is even guaranteed to be smear-proof in Category 3 hurricanes."

As I was driving home with the little black and white Sephora bag sitting on the passenger seat, I began to doubt the wisdom of this purchase.  The more I thought about how much it cost, the more I realized it could be one of those self fulfilling prophecies.  Once Sam found out the price of the little tube in the bag, there is a very good chance that the quality of the product would be tested in a real life situation.  And I wasn't at all sure there would be any effective consumer protection in place.

When I set the bag in the table, Sam called to me from his study. 
    "Ella, there was a long, thin package from the UK in the mail."    
 
                       "Were you expecting something?"



A self-fulfilling prophecy is a prediction that directly or indirectly causes itself to become true, by the very terms of the prophecy itself, due to positive feedback between belief and behavior.

                                                                  Mmmmmmm....