I love my boys and still pine for a daughter, but every now and then something comes along that causes me to reevaluate my blessings and thank God for totally NOT giving me a daughter. Among these things are dating, dating, the whining, the borrowing of my clothes without asking, dating, those freaky little My Little Ponies, and play make-up.
When I was a little girl my mother bought me a large plastic bust of a Barbie head with cornsilk hair and her very own makeup. No amount of effort or makeup could ever make my Barbie look like one of the models in my mother's Good Housekeeping magazine; in fact, the Barbie head resembled a hooker-clown.
My friend's daughter recently received a gift of play makeup from her (the friend's) mother-n-law. I noticed it because she looked like she might have been beaten up at the circus.
My friend told her MIL: "Next time get her REAL makeup instead. This stuff's impossible to get off. Plus she looks like some sort of freaky streetwalker. You know I had to get this stuff off with tool grease?"