When I get ready for show, I “do my eyes” which involves putting in my contact lenses and applying on mascara. (I know, I’m a real girly-girl.) I was in an office restroom completing this task, my mind on my jokes, when I fell into a rhythm. My rhythm went as follows:1) Wash hands.
2) Dry hands.
3) Throw paper towels into garbage.
1) Open contacts.
2) Insert contacts.
3) Throw foil contact packages into garbage.
1) Open mascara.
2) Apply mascara.
3) Throw mascara into garbage.
Oh no! I just threw my mascara into the garbage! I'm so dumb! And it’s office bathroom garbage filled with disgusting office-lady God-knows-what. Here’s my head: NOT “Do I want to reach in and retrieve my mascara?” It was more like, “Am I the kind of person who would reach into a gross garbage can to retrieve a mascara?” I chose this moment to reflect on myself as a person, not my immediate desires. What does contemplating this action say about me? Will I be able to live with myself knowing that I am the kind of person who has to go digging around in the garbage for a used mascara? What is this task worth to me and my ego? (Details that might sway your answer to one side: The mascara is readily available in drugstores nationwide, retails for $8, and is about a month old.) Money isn’t as tight as it once was. I could easily replace this mascara. But if it was $8 in an envelope a the bottom of this garbage can, would I go in for it? Is that who I am? The answer: Yes, I am the kind of person who would go digging around in office bathroom garbage to retrieve an $8 drugstore mascara. That’s me.
Additionally: since it’s office restroom garbage, the can was locked in a slick stainless steel casing, so that means I’m ALSO the kind of girl who will pick a lock and pry open a metal garbage door to fetch an $8 drugstore mascara. It’s good to have my mascara back but it’s even better to know who I really am.