Angry White Chick Rocks Finish Line with Ultra-marathon Mascara - L’Oreal Voluminous Butterfly Review

I’m tired of competing in the 40 to 49 female age bracket at all the ultra-marathons. Granted I’ve only been a forty-year-old woman a few months, but already I’ve discovered it’s not for me. I figure I should cut my losses before I’m fifty and I’m too far into this running thing to get fast enough to beat the speed demonic women older than me. I’m ready to make a change and do something about my misery with being a slow 40 year old female runner.
 
I want to time travel back to the 90s when it was more important to look bangin' than to bang out fast miles.  I'm exhausted with the current trend of stick straight sleek ponytail hair with no-slip headbands and so little makeup that you can’t tell I'm even wearing any.  Frankly, that goes against everything I believe.  If I’m going to spend my cheese on makeup and take the time to paint it on, I don’t want any doubt about whether or not I have it on my face.
 
I'm jonesin' for the 90s days of grunge when makeup tips were duly noted by corner-folding the pages of 'Sassy' magazine.  And it was perfectly acceptable to cover a pimple with a dot of brown eyebrow pencil to pass it off as a mole because "Zits are beauty marks" according to Kurt Cobain.

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Source: wildsoulchiild, via socentralrain
 
I want an excuse to cover my sweat-induced bouts of acne with eyebrow crayon and rock some dark, weird, mysterious, angry white chick eyes while getting down and dirty on the trail.  Running is one of my favorite sports, and since I can't win at it in my demographic, it only makes sense I want to look like my best younger (90s era) self doing it. This means I need to wear the darkest, phattest mascara so as to be slightly presentable to the rest of the runners on race day.  If during the course of the race no one abruptly hurls while looking at me, I'll call it good presentation on my part.
 
Recently, I've been on the search for a lash lengthening and non-clumping formula mascara that won't leave my lashes feeling like dry tufts of hay. I want one that's not only a throwback to Courtney Love when she used to patch up her track marks to look more presentable, but also a mascara that's non-clumping and non-flaking to help keep glare out of my eyes when I suffer allergies and everything appears blurry. I want to see everything beneath my grungy mascara coated lashes as clear as Courtney Love did when she discovered the real location of the Malaysian plane.  That girl can see EVERYTHING while high on smack.  Anyway, I think I've finally found the illest drugstore brand to pass the rocker chick 90s style ultra-run test.
 
From my recent Walgreens haul, I purchased this new L’Oreal Lash Out Butterfly waterproof mascara in 'Blackest Black'. I usually go for a waterproof mascara to hold lash curl the best and because it won't melt down my cheeks after a few hours of wear.  The latter would make an allusion to the wicked witch of the west more than appropriate than that of a woman who wants to look cute while she runs.
 
I found the 'Lash Out' waterproof mascara at the new display section of the beauty aisle, and when going back for a spare tube three months later I did not see it in stock.  So I am pretty sure this was a limited edition product and is now being replaced by L'Oreal's Voluminous Butterfly mascara.

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I have this tube of mascara and I know how to use it.
Back away from the woman with the mascara.

This is perfectly dope because both versions consist of the same formula and offer exactly the same results.  The first time I knew of the Butterfly product line was from watching the commercial during Project Runway on Lifetime last fall.  My then 4 year old exclaimed, "Look at that girl's eyes!  They're 'skusting!" He was thoroughly disgusted that the model had murdered a butterfly by skinning it alive so she could wear its wings on her lashes.
 
He's very opinionated on the cosmetic choices I make.  He often watches me during my a.m. makeup application process and told me once that spending time with me in the morning is like eating caterpillars.  When I asked him, "How so?" he said it feels weird in his tummy at first when he watches my dropped bottom jaw form a gaping "Oh" when applying mascara (aka my mascara face).  His tummy feels even weirder when he sees a vacant 'no one home' upward look in my eyes at the moment I'm curling my lashes with what appears to be a medieval torture device.  Despite having to witness me bugging my eyes out and dropping my jaw to my boobs he says it'll be worth it when butterflies spray out his booty.

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