The Day I got Violet

There are very few times in my life that I've been violent. The one that sticks out in mind is a Saturday afternoon when my daughter was 13. After a long week of being a single   full-time working mom I asked for her help with some light house cleaning (no nanny for me!). Her response was something like "I'll do some cleaning but what are you going to do to help around here?"

Anyway, you can picture my response but this post isn't about getting violent, it's about getting violet.

It was a total accident mind you. I thought I had artfully and discretely filled in my blond and sparsely populated eyebrows with my Mary Kay taupe pencil. The trouble is that instead of indicating the color of the crayon with the color of the tube it's written in teeny tiny phone book sized type on the end so I used Violet instead. Damn. Wish I'd noticed that before I ventured out to Suburban Square. It wasn't until I caught a view of myself in an Ann Taylor mirror that I realized I looked like a total clown. Now I'm sure there are some women who can rock out that look but not this 50-something Mainliner. Good thing it wasn't while I had pink hair. 

Oh sure, I could pop in my contacts every time I want to put on my makeup so I can see the fine print on the colors. I've resorted to putting a dab of nail polish on the end of my eye pencils so that I won't make a garish error again. I bought a Clinique eyebrow pencil that's thinner than the other pencils so I'll know immediately if I'm holding the correct one.

Have you even done something like that because you just can't see like you used to? There are  times I've conditioned, rinsed and repeated and ended up with dirty, over conditioned hair because I couldn't read which bottle was shampoo and which one was conditioner. Lipstick? I have to pop of the end for a quick confirmation of color before I end up with sex red lips at the grocery. I can honestly say I've never "drunk dialed" anyone but I have scrolled down to the wrong phone book name and called the wrong person on my cell phone. Awkward!

Why can't manufacturers help us Boomers out? Would it be too much to ask to make the print bigger or color coordinate the packaging? I'm pretty sure it wouldn't cost extra or take much more ink to make the type bigger. I know I can't do anything about cell phone keys or my iPod screen but my buying decisions will certainly involve packaging and instructions I can read. While I'm not ready for one of those mega remote controls or big ass button phones I sure would like a little help. Wouldn't you?

In the meantime I'll just have to resort to wearing my glasses any time I need to read, starting with breakfast. My morning steel-cut oats just aren't the same when I mistake cumin for cinnamon.

This is an original 50Something Moms post. Lollie also blogs on Philly Moms except when she's making true confessions to people who might remember seeing the crazy woman with the purple eyebrows.