Always Read the Packaging!

Last month, I was bored over lunch and decided to scope out Marshall’s discount beauty supplies. It’s not something I do often, but I had a hankering for lipbalm and it wasn’t going away. I have a terrible habit of buying things based on the “oooo, shiny!” method that can include just really nifty packaging as well.

In burrowing my way through a mountain of brushes and lotions, I spotted my shiny! It was a marketing moment meant just for me with it’s slightly vintage yellow tint, steampunk skull, and reference to Clockwork Orange in the color name. How could I not buy it?

As soon as I got to the car with my prize, I ripped open the packaging, fought with the wrapping around the chapstick-like tube and slathered it on. I smacked my lips a couple times and batted my eyes in the mirror. This was a Happy Darla.

Well, for about half a second. Then, my lips started to feel warm. The warm turned to a deep burn that felt like a chemical intrusion into my very cells. I breathed in deep, but the air against it just made it worse. I started looking for the packaging that I hadn’t really read but merely appreciated.  Do I need to go straight to a hospital?

As I abandoned my search for the discarded packaging to focus on finding something to wipe/cleanse/purify my tainted lips with, I noticed something new. It felt like small spasms. My lips were epileptic. It was nothing short of terrifying. There almost seemed to be a dr-lip-bangs-lip-freak-lip-balm-clockwerk-orange-0-15-ozlow hum with the spasms. Were my lips vibrating?

Shit! I gave up and wiped my lips with my sweater, promptly looking at it to see if a chemical burn had eaten through the cloth. No, it seemed ok. But, this can’t be good. Finally, my eye catches the packaging.

Doctor Lip Bang’s Lip Freak. I suddenly truly see the packaging: The strongest BUZZING lip balm in the whole world. Freak your lips out!

Holy crud! It’s supposed to do that? Why on Earth would anything actually want that to happen to them? This is bad. But, I’m not dying. My lips are not going to melt off my face.

I tried desperately to wipe more off, but the spasms persisted. I tried to eat something, thinking it would come off somehow in that process. Nothing. Drinking. Nothing. Only time and patience made this vibrating liptrocity finally calm.

I called husband, who insisted that I not put it on again. Yes, I was tempted. And, he asked that I not put it on him in his sleep. …I am still pondering this request.

I kept the tube, hidden out of site.

But, now, I can say – a word to the wise – always read the packaging.



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