When I was about ten years old, I made two life-altering decisions.
Not big decisions.
Not smart ones, either.

But they felt huge at the time.
Because I was about to become…

• A spy with X-ray vision

• And the proud owner of a playful underwater Sea Monkey family

All thanks to the back pages of my favorite comic books.

I scraped together $2.25 of allowance money… filled out the mail-in forms with the intensity of a kid solving world peace… and sent them off.

And then I waited.

Weeks went by.

Then one day… the first package arrived.

The X-Ray Specs:

The ad made it clear—this wasn’t a toy.
This was science.
It said I’d be able to see bones. Muscles. Maybe even secrets.

I imagined myself walking through school hallways with my new X-ray gaze, stopping just short of being recruited by the FBI.

So I opened the package like it contained ancient treasure.

What I found… were two cardboard glasses.
With red spirals printed on each “lens”…
And a tiny feather glued between them.
(Why a feather? To this day, no one knows. Probably witchcraft.)

I put them on.

Nothing.

I held my hand up to the light, squinted, tilted my head, blinked twice, crossed my eyes…

And finally—maybe—if I really tried hard enough—I saw a faint double image that vaguely resembled a shadow of a hand.

It was like looking through the future…
Only the future had chicken fuzz in it and smelled like disappointment.

But I wasn’t done yet.

The Sea Monkeys:

Now THIS ad was incredible.

Cartoon Sea Monkeys smiling. Waving. Living their best life in tiny undersea armchairs.
One was even wearing a crown. A crown.
Royalty.
These weren’t pets. These were society.

The ad said they were playful. Fun. Trainable.

I had plans.
Names.
Lesson schedules.

So I mixed the powder into a cup of water and waited.
And I waited…

And then I met them.

Well—squinted at them.

Little specks.
Brine shrimp. Floating. Bobbing. Not waving. Not playing.
No chairs.
No crown.
No tax-paying middle class.

It looked less like an undersea kingdom… and more like my sink drain had coughed.

The Real Pain:

The worst part wasn’t the scam.

It was the smile I forced in front of my parents…
The “oh, this is what I expected” lie that every disappointed kid has told with watery eyes and crushed dignity.

In that moment, I learned what a bait-and-switch felt like.
Not in theory.
Not from a business book.
But in my gut.

It stuck.

The Pivot:

So when I started Newlook Body Works years later…
I swore I’d never run my business the way those comic book ads did.

No feathers.
No shrimp.
No illusions.

Just clear expectations. Honest pricing. Mobile service. And a repair that looks exactly how you thought it would—only better.

When I say your bumper will be repaired in under 2 hours at your home or work…
That’s exactly what happens.

When I give you a quote, I stick to it.
When I say I’m showing up, I’m there.

Why?

Because unlike my Sea Monkeys…
I actually trained myself.

The Part Where I Actually Deliver

If your car has paint or bumper damage—and you’re tired of gimmicks, vague pricing, and letdowns dressed up in bold promises…

👉 Click here to request your free online estimate

No feathers.
No floating specks.
No comic-book-level disappointment.

Just real service, done right.
Right where you are.

And that's exactly how you want it to be.