Make-up Bag
I am guilty.
Right about now you are probably finishing that sentence in your head with words like: of murder, of gluttony, of feeling sorry for myself after every episode of "The Fabulous life of..." on VH1.
Aside from the things thus mentioned (which are applicable in some cases), I am guilty of stealing make-up. And no I'm not a Sephora eye shadow pocketer. I take make-up from my Mother. Despite the fact that I am a poor college student with aspirations to be a trophy wife, but funds lacking such ambitions and have no other option than to pilfer beauty products from others, my Mom has really good stuff. It was because of her, after all, that I discovered the magic of compact powder at age 10, volume enhancing hair mousse by 12, and pasties under backless dresses by 14.
One of my most vivid slash horrific memories is me standing in front of the mirror the morning of my 6th grade class picture and crying because I had smeared extra noir Maybelline Lash enhancing mascara all over my cheek. (Come 'on, you can't expect an 11 year old to have the steady expert hand of sophisticated lady.) I had no idea what to do and was particularly certain my Mother would be mad, not for going through her make-up bag, but for developing make-up habits that could justifiably be compared to those of a hooker. Quietly I walked, plank style, out of the bathroom and peered my head around the corner of the kitchen where my Mom was buttering toast or mustarding ham sandwiches or whatever. Right away she saw my distressed look of make-up anguish and with out saying anything took me back into the bathroom and removed the mascara strone across my cheek with a little bit of lotion and a tissue. I was amazed. I still use that technique to this day.
Two summers ago my Mother came back from California with this stuff called Bareminerals. I passed it off as an old lady line of products after recalling an infomercial I had seen for it a few months back. That was until this past December, over a year after my Mom had been using Bareminerals, I finally discovered the wonderfulosity that it possessed. You see, I had a predicament involving a big giant plushy powder brush and no loose powder. Hearing my whines of misery my Mother came bearing gifts. Two small jars of loose powder. One skin colored(Mineral Veil) and one pink(Clear Radiance). Mineral Veil was a powder foundation. A powder foundation? I was skeptical. I wasn’t ready to trade in my Clinique Super Balance for a product I originally thought was meant to fill the appearance of wrinkles (though I've been proved wrong since). Bareminerals is the best thing in the beauty industry since 2-in-1 shampoo conditioner. Aside from the incredible effects of the powder foundation that I am ashamed to say I doubted, I am absolutely obsessed obsessed obsessed with Clear Radiance. It's pinkish rosy hue is 'not a blush, not yet a bronzer' (<---an intended Britney Spears lyric pun that failed miserably). It leaves me blushing, like a bride, minus the reception debt to pay off and a lazy good for nothing husband. Thank god.
So, thanks Mom, for not complaining when I continue to take, use, and abuse pretty much everything you have and call it my own.
Right about now you are probably finishing that sentence in your head with words like: of murder, of gluttony, of feeling sorry for myself after every episode of "The Fabulous life of..." on VH1.
Aside from the things thus mentioned (which are applicable in some cases), I am guilty of stealing make-up. And no I'm not a Sephora eye shadow pocketer. I take make-up from my Mother. Despite the fact that I am a poor college student with aspirations to be a trophy wife, but funds lacking such ambitions and have no other option than to pilfer beauty products from others, my Mom has really good stuff. It was because of her, after all, that I discovered the magic of compact powder at age 10, volume enhancing hair mousse by 12, and pasties under backless dresses by 14.
One of my most vivid slash horrific memories is me standing in front of the mirror the morning of my 6th grade class picture and crying because I had smeared extra noir Maybelline Lash enhancing mascara all over my cheek. (Come 'on, you can't expect an 11 year old to have the steady expert hand of sophisticated lady.) I had no idea what to do and was particularly certain my Mother would be mad, not for going through her make-up bag, but for developing make-up habits that could justifiably be compared to those of a hooker. Quietly I walked, plank style, out of the bathroom and peered my head around the corner of the kitchen where my Mom was buttering toast or mustarding ham sandwiches or whatever. Right away she saw my distressed look of make-up anguish and with out saying anything took me back into the bathroom and removed the mascara strone across my cheek with a little bit of lotion and a tissue. I was amazed. I still use that technique to this day.
Two summers ago my Mother came back from California with this stuff called Bareminerals. I passed it off as an old lady line of products after recalling an infomercial I had seen for it a few months back. That was until this past December, over a year after my Mom had been using Bareminerals, I finally discovered the wonderfulosity that it possessed. You see, I had a predicament involving a big giant plushy powder brush and no loose powder. Hearing my whines of misery my Mother came bearing gifts. Two small jars of loose powder. One skin colored(Mineral Veil) and one pink(Clear Radiance). Mineral Veil was a powder foundation. A powder foundation? I was skeptical. I wasn’t ready to trade in my Clinique Super Balance for a product I originally thought was meant to fill the appearance of wrinkles (though I've been proved wrong since). Bareminerals is the best thing in the beauty industry since 2-in-1 shampoo conditioner. Aside from the incredible effects of the powder foundation that I am ashamed to say I doubted, I am absolutely obsessed obsessed obsessed with Clear Radiance. It's pinkish rosy hue is 'not a blush, not yet a bronzer' (<---an intended Britney Spears lyric pun that failed miserably). It leaves me blushing, like a bride, minus the reception debt to pay off and a lazy good for nothing husband. Thank god.
So, thanks Mom, for not complaining when I continue to take, use, and abuse pretty much everything you have and call it my own.
