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My Cosmo Makeover

Understanding a `female thing" through a new CD.

L

DAVID KUSHNER

Special to The Jewish News

choose from, I felt giddy, elated, like
Burt Reynolds in a custom wig
store. Pretty soon, however, I felt
like Mary Albert.
With a click of the
Women's Hair but-
ton, I entered a
beauty salon buf-
fet. Did I want
to be a
blonde? A
redhead? The
choice was as

ike most guys, I've gotten
tired of waiting for women
to put on their make-up.
Between my mother, my
ex-girlfriends and my wife, I have
spent years trying to occupy myself
while they dipped, dabbed, puckered
and tweezed. Whenever I corn-
plained, I was always told that it was
simply a "female thing," that there
was no way I could understand. But
now those days are over, thanks to
"Cosmopolitan's Virtual Makeover"
CD-ROM.
According to the promo, the
Virtual Makeover CD-ROM is the
perfect solution for women who
want to try out a new look with-
out the usual hassles, like
expensive toiletries and those
dreaded bad haircuts. "You
will no longer be relegated
to wearing hats for a month
while your hair rebounds," the
ad promised. Using some nifty
interactive make-up and hair acces-
sories, it said, "a whole new you
is just a click away!" Now it was my
turn to find out what the big world
of make-up was all about.
As the CD-ROM started
easy as clicking the color on screen.
spinning, it was time to scan my
I could even lengthen my hair or
head. Using my digital camera, I
sprout an afro able to grow and
pulled back my hair and smiled
grow until I looked like a
faintly into the lens. Within a few
cross-dressed hybrid of Freddie
seconds of plugging the camera into
(Boom Boom) Washington and a
my laptop, my tired, unshaven face
Chia Pet.
zipped onto the monitor. Man, was I
After a few heinous decisions, I
ugly. What I needed was a little
clicked the "Glamorous" button,
spruce-me-up: a bit of zest, a porn-
sheathing my face in thick, flowing
padour, a perm, something.
feathered blonde locks.I was Farrah
I clicked on the Men's Hairstyles,
Fawcett circa 1976. Well, almost.
which, I suppose, the game makes
Except that she was more of an
available in case a Cosmo woman's
Angel and I was, well, Charlie.
boyfriend is around. Instantly,
What was at first hilarious, quick-
my screen filled with a menu of
ly became unsettling. Oh, no, I
disembodied digital wigs that, with-
thought: if I have a daughter, is this
out accompanying heads, looked
- what she's going to look like?
more like mustaches for Gulliver.
Something had to be done! What
Clicking around the different sets of
about a little eye shadow — that
hair, I watched them magically
would
help, right? I clicked the
appear on my pixelated face: blond
"Frosted Raisin" eye shadow icon
perms, black bobs, goatees, Van
and swiped the cursor over my lids.
Dykes.
Not bad, but it was still somehow
With all these sets of hair to

10/2
1998

72 Detroit Jewish News

lacking. I needed blue contact lens-
es. Click.
Darker eye shadow. Click. I need-
ed the final touch, a beauty mark.
Clicking a tiny spot, I moved the
arrow above my lip and voila: Cindy
Crawford, eat your mole out!
By the time my wife got back
from the gym, I hadn't moved from
the couch. A football game was
muted on the TV. Beer cans littered
the floor. Hunched and sweating, I
pounded my laptop.
"What's wrong?" She asked.

Within a matter
of minutes,
my wife
transformed
me from
Rude Dave
to
RuDave.

"It's my blush!" I growled. "I
mean, Tlumberry Glow' brings out
my highlights, but 'Catalina Coral'
doesn't make me look as fat. What
do I do?"
"What do you expect," she said,
reaching for the mouse, "your lip
liner is all wrong!"
I sat back and watched in awe as she
did her voodoo. It was amazing, the
science, the artistry of make-up. The
mistakes I made were pathetic: how
was I supposed to look good in blush
when I didn't even use any concealer?
The eyeliner was supposed to go on
only my upper lids, not the top and the
bottom! What was I thinking? I really
was just a big dumb guy after all.
Within a matter of minutes, my
viife transformed me from Rude
Dave to RuDave. If it wasn't for my
morning shadow, I might have even
asked myself out (although, since
I'm married, that probably wouldn't
be a good idea; then again, if I data',
myself, would that be cheating?).
After years of bitching and moan-
ing, I finally appreciated the sub-
tleties of foundation, the nuances of
mascara, the complexities of eye
shadow. Even so, I just hope, when
the time comes, that I have a boy.
Or at the very least, a girl who looks
like her mother.

❑

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