Don't Ever Buy Cheap Makeup From the Wish App (short horror story (gore))
Description
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
North American (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
I used to be a beauty junkie. I am asked an expensive collection over the years because I loved it all. Lipstick, gloss, eyeliner, blush foundation, BB cream, moisturizers, masks at home heels. Even wrinkle creams don't judge me. Prevention is the best defense, but what I love most was eye shadow, pallets and pots, shimmers and mats, glitter formulas and silky creams. I adored and wanted it all. Unfortunately, good eye shadow isn't cheap. Sure, you can hit up a supermarket for discounted, wet and wild. And to be fair, the formula has improved in recent years. But that wasn't good enough. See, I wasn't just a makeup addict. I was an expensive makeup addict. There's no comparison between luxury brands and drugstore fodder. I got my hopes up with clarity a while back, but it just doesn't hold a candle to Chanel or Nars or even Cat for Indy. Even luxury brands have their drawbacks, though. And no matter how hard I tried, I just couldn't find the perfect eye shadow and tell Last Christmas, when I found the Holy Grail of Eye Shadow, or rather, my boyfriend did, he gifted me an eye watering the expensive pad McGraw offset last December, specifically the mothership. One subliminal palette. It was stunning. Ah, lacquer case with a bedeviled mirror and 12 jaw dropping eye shadows, blinding metallics, deep mats and the crown jewel of palate. Ah, vibrant, futuristic, dark blue. It looked like someone had to still the very essence of Blade Runner of science fiction itself and turned it into makeup. It was everything I wanted. The shadows applied and blended like a dream, maintaining an almost at the real vibrancy throughout the day. It was utterly perfect. Naturally, that pallet birthed an obsession when I couldn't indulge. I live paycheck to paycheck, not because of irresponsible behavior. I lost the genetic lottery in terms of health. Medical bills are my burden. And Bain. This means money is really tight, with no prospect of improvement, so there was no way I could drop $125 on more eyeshadow. I had to satisfy myself with what I had, except I wasn't satisfied. I couldn't be satisfied. I thought about the other mothership pallets, constantly whiling away my scant spare time with daydreams of duo chrome's and smoky jewel tones. Now I'm a realistic person. If something sounds too good to be trio. It usually is. This is especially true for discount goods from online sellers. There's no way you're getting a Luton handbag or Mac book for 95% off MSRP E. That goes for high end makeup, too. But here's the thing about obsession. It makes you do crazy things. It changes the way you think and behave to the point where you try to rewrite reality itself. And my obsession with these pallets just wouldn't go away. I kept wondering how one might obtain bargain pricing group Eyes, Super secret Squirrel coupon clubs. I looked far and wide. Inevitably, every search for cheap designer makeup, discounted mothership and Pat McGrath clearance led to wish eBay an L A Express, I wish had a particularly tantalizing deal. All four Mothership Palace blended together for $45 plus shipping. To put this in perspective, it would cost $475 to buy them all from Sephora. I knew it was too good to be true, but the price point was just high enough to convince me it was legit. Maybe it was cheap due to damage packaging or incorrect labeling. Maybe I'd lucked out, and it was just regular old Overstock. I checked the listing reviews only four but uniformly positive and study the photos. They were clearly stolen from the Pat McGrath website, but I decided to believe otherwise. I took the plunge and dropped $58. In case you don't know, wish usually takes for ever. My bundle was no exception. Days stretched endlessly into weeks, which turned into torturously long months and then one sunny Saturday, they arrived in a partially crushed cardboard box with dual labels in English and Chinese. It turns out my painful anticipation was the best part of the whole ordeal. The second I opened the box, disappointment crushed me. The outer cardboard shells looked authentic enough, but the case, which was supposed to be heavy and luxurious, was made of cheap plastic, and the colors were a joke. No shimmering duo, chrome's or smoky jewel tones here, flat mats and uninspired glitter shades set before me in their stupid, crappy plastic. I admit it. I cried a little, but anger quickly replaced heartbreak, and I demanded a refund from Wish. The photos on the listing did not accurately portray what I received So I got my money back immediately in somewhat better spirits, I decided to play around with my new makeup. It wasn't what I wanted, but now that I had it for free, no less, it made sense to check it out. Surprisingly, the colors watched well. There weren't spectacular, but the pale pastels created a passable springtime palate. They blended easily and, with the exception of a few irritating grains that cropped up from time to time, glided on smoothly. I actually liked it and felt bad about the refund. The more experimented, the more impressed me. I even discovered a look I loved enough to wear for a date night. While I loved expensive makeup, it hurt my heart to use it quickly. Thus, thes cheap knockoff pallets became my go to for daily wear. I warn the shadows at work. When I went out, and even around the house it was a fun, low stakes way to feel glamorous without depleting my premiums dash. Even better, that odd graininess disappeared with use, leaving the rest of the makeup smooth and buttery. It was all going great until the eye infection it developed overnight, a few weeks after the pallets arrived. Even in my dreams, I was aware of the discomfort. My face felt hot and tender. Whenever I placed the slightest pressure around my eyes, a stinging, unclean pain unfurled across my face. The pain intensified to the point that I woke. I sat up and suddenly realized I couldn't open my eyes. I touched my face and, to my horror, felt a thick, flaking crust of mucous around my eyelids. I staggered blindly to the bathroom, whimpering and knocking over pretty much everything I owned in the process. It took forever to wash the crest away. No matter how gentle I waas, it hurt badly, even the slightest touch produced in a key sting that spread down to my nose and deep inside my sockets. As I Rance, the swollen flesh around my eyes, twist weirdly under my hands. This didn't surprise me. I dreaded the pain. Each touch produced and figured my poor face was reflexively withdrawing in order to avoid even more discomfort. After a while, I was finally able to open my eyes. Strings of fresh mucus stretched between my upper lower lids. Breaking was exquisitely painful, like every last one of my eyelashes had evolved into a hypersensitive nerve ending. My high lids were horrifically inflamed so red they plastic. Lee glowed under the bathroom lights. As I watched, they continued to shift and twitch. They reminded me of shark exhibits where the aquarium shines light be having the exact to eliminate the developing creature within. The thought made my gorge rise. It didn't help that fresh puss and mucus were welling up around my eyelashes. I lean towards the mirror. I couldn't drive like this, but I couldn't afford an ambulance either. I needed to pop my eyelashes. It's as it were in order to clear my vision long enough to transport myself to the emergency room. Not going to the ER wasn't an option. The last thing I needed was for this new, interesting super pinkeye to morph into a brain infection. I steeled myself whimpering in anticipation of pain and pressed my fingertip to my lower eyelid. The agony was sharp, overwhelming and almost exquisite. My swollen water line immediately expressed an impossible amount of viscous yellow puss. There was too much. It overwhelmed the small sores, quickly blocking them with glistening white buildup with a preemptive shriek. I J my nail against my twitching island and squealed in pain as the buildup bulged and bulged and kept on bulging. Then, with a burst of dizzying torturers, pain that radiated through my entire head, the buildup exploded out of my lower lid. It rose in quintuple columns and fell down across my cheek, where it all began to squirm. It took me a second to realize what I was seeing. Larva, What white wriggling larva inching across my face. I screamed and panicked, continuing to squeeze them out. They kept coming, rising like little bubbles for my inflamed lash line before erupting and pattering down onto my face. My chest and my bathroom counter gushes of pests and watery blood, foul smelling and far too hot accompany the larva. My wailing and continual squeezing agitated them. A few squirm free of their own volition, inching along under the thin flesh before poking up through the sores and dropping to the counter. I was too hyped on panic, pain and adrenaline to remember much after that. All I know is I scream so much. My neighbor called 911. I went to the hospital where they performed an excess a successful extraction surgery. In addition to another six worms, they found several eggs embedded under my eyelid. The worms are a newly discovered species of aggressive flesh eaters. I was very lucky because my fresh little newborns were close to the surface. They only ate a very small part of my eyelid. I'm not the only victim, the doctor said. There have been a few over the past few months. Counterfeit makeup is the suspected culprit in most cases, although one unlucky band got infected after wearing a fake designer shirt with eggs in the caller. But larva ate their way into its spine and he nearly died. I'm actually alright. My eyelids are a little baggy and my water line is still pretty red, so I look a bit like a basset hound. Some days my doctor thinks the discoloration will fade and the baggy skin will tighten up. If not, no biggie. I'll just get a blepharoplasty somewhere down the line. Sure concealer and eyeliner could probably take care of it, but I'd rather go under the knife at this point. Did you know that most cosmetics Ellen brand off brand and knockoffs are often manufactured in the same buildings. Look it up. It's true. I can't deal with it. So I'm done with makeup, Probably forever. These days. Then you're thought of eye shadow is enough to make my eye twitch.