Thank Us Later: Benefit Erase Paste Is A Little Jar Of Miracles
I am a cryer. Well, maybe I’m what you might call a “closet cryer,” because I rarely do it in the company of others, but I’ve never exactly been secretive about the fact that I love a nice private tear fest every now and then. I used to only cry about actual problems in my life, but a few years ago something must have switched around in my brain circuitry, because I’ve evolved into one of those People Who Cry During Movies. And commercials. And songs. Usually it’s just a gentle welling of soft tears that I imagine looks poetic before I swiftly wipe them away rather than actual sobbing in movie theaters (seriously, universe, can we all just agree to quit it with the audible sobbing in movie theaters?), but sometimes it’s enough to make my eyes swell or create some charming wet mascara blotches in places they don’t belong. When I cry too close to falling asleep, I wake up the next morning with a tear hangover — my head hurts and my puffy eyes look like a nightmare. Without some Sephora-induced assistance, it’s clear to everyone I talk to all day what I’ve been up to the night before, which, no thank you! At least when you have a puffy face from getting wasted the night before you might have a funny story, but not so much when it’s just from crying in bed at 1 a.m. Nothing says “I can’t be trusted to function even though I am a grown-up who has her shit together” quite like residual post-crying eyes.
I also inherited the purple under-eye bags that run in my family. When I was in middle school and high school, I decided this was a devastating turn of events that set me apart as clearly Less Than (in retrospect, LOL), and tried anything and everything to cover them up. I was positive my raccoon eyes made me look like a haggard, sloppy loser amidst all my fresh-faced classmates who surely never needed concealer for anything besides the odd zit or two. No matter how much sleep I got or how much I was kicking ass at treating eye-watery seasonal allergies, the skin under my peepers still looked sad and miserable. I went through mountains of drugstore cover-up, most of which were either mismatched to my skin tone or turned into a nasty, caked mess halfway through the day. I thought about buying one of those hundred-dollar creams that claim to zap the bags away. I finally settled on my mom’s favorite department store concealer for a few years (I can’t remember the brand but it came in a pointy tube), which only sort of worked and made a huge goopy mess all over my hands when I tried to apply it.
Fast-forwarding to now, I haven’t really thought about my puffy eyes in years. This is partially because they’re just part of my face (literally, my bone structure creates a huge dip underneath my eyes) and there’s nothing I could do to change my desire for a morning swipe of concealer, even if I wanted to. It’s also partially because it is the actually the least significant aspect of my entire life, which has become clear now that I am not fourteen anymore and thus no longer see every minor annoyance as Proof I Am A Failure And Will Never Find Happiness Like Those Other Girls Who Are Dating Seniors. Mostly, though, it’s because I don’t have to think about it anymore, because I’ve found the magic elixir to all my haggard-face disasters: Benefit Erase Paste.
It is mystical, friends. If you’ve been using run-of-the-mill spot concealer, Erase Paste is unlike any product you’ve ever seen. It might even be scary at first to try something unknown and a little intimidating, but trust, you can handle this. It comes in a colorful little box, like you’re buying yourself a present. It has its own instruction packet! You’ll see why that’s necessary pretty soon after purchasing it — it has the consistency of, well, paste. It comes with a tiny little wand for applying it. It’s a bit sticky, and a tiny dollop of the stuff on your finger is all you need to get the job done. You can apply it to your face in tiny dots, then blend the dots into a beautiful canvas of smooth, no-longer-purple-or-zitty skin. I technically use it incorrectly – I don’t apply it with the tiny magic wand, just with my finger, though it’s on my to-do list to actually start applying it right – and it still works wonders for me! Imagine, then, what would happen if you actually followed the application instructions that come in the box! MIRACLES, THAT’S WHAT. Even if you don’t have the genetic under-eye curse that I do, you need this stuff in your life. It’s your secret BFF for handling the face-ruining nightmares that accompany evening tears, random breakdowns in the bathroom during brunch, getting emotional during that stupid sappy Oreo commercial, nights out that last until the next morning, hangovers, and (of course) zits!
It’s $26 for a little tub (I’m pretty sure it was $30 at one point and was marked down, yay) and it is 100 percent worth the cost. Because it takes such a small amount of the concealer to give you full coverage for the day, one tub lasts me anywhere from six months to the better part of a year, even when applying it every single morning. It more than pays for itself in cost per use and in all the money you’ll save on trying, hating, and eventually chucking about a thousand other disappointing concealer options. Since first trying this stuff a few years ago, I’ve fallen down a rabbit hole of Benefit makeup magic. I’ve fallen in love with nearly every Benefit product I’ve ever bought, so not only is Erase Paste a nifty little miracle on its own, it’s a gateway into slowly transforming your getting-ready routine into a Benefit theme park, and thus loving your own fabulous face about a million times more.
Trust me on this. It will change your life. BUY IT, FRIENDS.