Recessionista....or Stupid?

During the Great Depression people adopted many practices to survive. They changed the way they cooked; to spend less on pricey cuts of meat they began eating liver and kidneys. They repurposed clothes and conserved energy as much as possible. They also were reluctant to get rid of anything that may be useful, as evidenced by your grandparents’ assortment of magazines, newspapers, and otherwise worthless stuff they have piled in their basement.

It may not really feel like we are in a recession or depression ourselves, but with the black cloud of the media hanging over our head crying, “Crisis!” it is a bit difficult to ignore. Though I haven’t taken to eating innards just yet, unless you count the generic mystery meat hot dogs I regularly consume, I have noticed myself engaging in some depression-era activities. I’ve always saved cards and hand written notes, but now I have begun rinsing out cottage cheese and margarine containers, storing with the rest of my fine Gladware for all the leftovers I’ll want to save in these unstable times.

But perhaps the most notable and odious activity, according to my friends, that I reluctantly admit to committing, is picking things up off the street. Ok, let me just say that I am not picking up newspapers, or used mattresses or anything that looks like it could be deadly or disgusting, but I may have thrown caution to the wind the day I found mascara. I was on my way to work and I noticed in front of me on the sidewalk the tell-tale navy and silver tube that indicates the best you can buy for your lashes: Dior. The packaging was pristine, not a scratch or a mark on it, clearly it had just been carelessly dropped by a rushed working woman.

Now say what you will, but a little mascara can go a long way, and this was a different shade than the one I had at home. I threw it in my bag and went on my way. I let it sit on my shelf for weeks, while my friends told me all the eye maladies that would befall me if I used it. Having recently had pink-eye, it did some a risky bet to use a stranger’s eye make-up, but it’s also risky to eat past due dairy and I’ve done that as well. So one night, already a little buzzed from my pregame and not wanting to weigh the pros and cons of this existential question, I put some on. My lashes had never looked longer, and they even seemed to curl with danger under the brush of my purloined cosmetic.

Well I survived. Blindness didn’t ensue the next day, and my eyes are still clear and healthy. I found a cat mask on the street last night and immediately put it on. Who knows? I may need that sometime in the future. I think we would all be a little more comfortable with the economic downturn if we just relax a little, and do what we need to survive and still stay sexy. But I may need to throw that mascara away. There are things worth saving, but perhaps our health should be the first and foremost. Some risks aren’t worth taking twice, that’s something you learn after a swig of sour milk.