This Eyelash Curler Will Change Your Life
If the eyes are the windows to the soul, the lids are the squeegees, and the lashes are the squeegee handles, and, girl, those handles had better be curled. You think someone’s gonna fall in love with flat-ass squeegee handles? Get a clue, and get this curler! Trust me, this curler bagged me Toby, the barely verbal trad husband of my dreams. Bonus: the curler arrived in an adorable box. My hamster loves the box.
Daisy Duck
This eyelash curler truly leaves no crumbs, but is Daisy Duck inhabiting anyone else’s body? The sensuous swoop of my eyelashes has somehow affected my vocal cords, and now I talk like Daisy Duck—the original Daisy Duck, from 1940, so please read this in her dialect. I’m also waddling in a way that can only be described as femme-mallard. Like I’m a sexpot but have webbed feet and don’t want to wear bottoms? LOL, help! But also maybe don’t? My Daisy traits sort of freak my hamster out, but she’s enjoying the curler box, which she converted into a Jacuzzi.
Takes Years Off Your Face
How many years? Hard to say, because this curler not only bends your lashes but also bends the thermodynamic arrow of time. The lashes, once curled, become causality loops. Yes, sweetie, sexy wormholes have entered the chat. Squeeze your lashes with this thing for thirty seconds and you’ll be simultaneously holding hands with your great-great-grandmother and your unborn daughter, but they’re both sixteen and their lashes are beat. It’s definitely giving Benjamin Button, queen. I’m almost a baby again! Also, I love the snazzy travel pouch that’s included with the curler. My hamster used it as a birthing blanket when she was delivering her pups. (Yes, the travel pouch is washable.)
Pinch Me, I’m Curling
Guys, the reason some reviews say that this curler pinches and others say it doesn’t is because it only pinches if you’re chosen by a palpebral deity to undergo a ritualistic Pinching of the Lid ceremony. Some are chosen; some are not. I was chosen, so it pinched my lids until I precognitively saw where I die. Just where, not when. Kinda sus, but still pretty fun to know that I die in a Marie Callender’s. Ha ha, I never even go there! My hamster turned the curler box into a trundle bed for when her cousin sleeps over. Her cousin is a recovering sunflower-seed addict, so it’s really important for him to have a family support system.
Cleopatra Called
This curler took the puritanical twigs that were my eyelashes and pressed them into lush crescent fans of divine feminine bliss. Cleopatra called—she doesn’t want her eyelash curler back. No, honey, she wants you to clamp your lashes with it to invoke the Egyptian sex goddess Hathor. Cleopatra’s busy (mummified). But what are you doing, drinking an iced tea? Just get the darn curler and invoke Hathor! Then watch what kind of Secret Santa presents your co-workers start getting you. It sure won’t be a box of oat-bran-muffin mix like last year, Todd. It’ll probably be a tube top! I gave the cute eyelash-curler box to my hamster. She signed her divorce papers on it.
