my budget is shot, but my hair looks FABULOUS

I'm relatively vain, like most women I know, so I spend time worrying about and spending copious amounts of money on fucking pointless things that aren't going to feed natural disaster victims.... like minimizing the size of my pores and fixing the split ends in my hair.


I wish it weren't so.




In fact, yesterday I bought a goddamn flat iron for my hair that put me back over a hundred bucks.
(But, it was definitely on sale for fifty dollars off, so I obviously HAD to make it mine. It's a CHI.  Plus, colorful paisley. Um, duh. While you will never catch me dead OR alive adorning my body in such a tacky pattern, yes, I will allow my haircare products to be embellished with whimsy and bright coloring.)

heinious hot-pink patent leather bag included.

I'm not a girly-girl. I stare with malice at any clothing item tainted with glitter or sequins. I won't even paint my nails with anything vaguely pearlescent. But, I'll empty my bank account for Michael Kors if he ever asks, I collect pricey perfume bottles and I'm a freak about facewash. Not to mention my unending quest for swimable mascara. If you've found it, please share.

When I walk into the doors of Ulta or Sephora, it's like sugarplum fairies are actually materializing in front of my face. Never mind the fact that I get the same feeling from a Half-Priced Books. It's magical. I'm dead fucking serious when I say that I will start humming along to the music in these stores and sauntering around like a star. It's sad to watch, and that's why I'm glad I'm me and I don't have to. I'm living in my FABULOUS little dream world where every problem I have with my appearance can be solved with a spray, lotion, gel, sprinkle of dust.

I WANT ALL OF IT.

I walk into cosmetic stores and I literally morph into that spoiled girl in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Veruca.



GIVE ME ALL OF THE GODDAMN THINGS!

 But, being that I'm actually a semi-intelligent woman, despite my tendency toward things that smell good and trick strangers into thinking I"m prettier, I developed a strategy that actually cut down on my cosmetic splurging.

I force Manfriend to come with me.


Having him there forces me to stay on task because of math. 


 Man + Make-up store = If-we're-in-here-for-long-I'm-going-to-become-a-total-grouch.

I could and would waste hours of my life and bajillions of my dollars (okay, I don't have bajillions of dollars, sue me.) trolling up and down those aisles, searching for the perfect remedy for something I didn't even know was wrong with me when I walked into the store if it weren't for Manfriend. Instead we get to spend precious moments of him secretly grabbing my ass between rows of conditioner while I quickly try to make a decision so we can get out of there before he gets caught groping me by some old lady. Win-Win!

So far my system is working. While I did spend over one hundred dollars at Ulta last night, it was premeditated, and I did manage to skip out of there without a seventy dollar two ounce bottle of moisturizer- and a whopping supply of buyers remorse. Plus Manfriend got to feel like he was being sneaky, and it's amazing how much men love that.

Plus, now I have oodles more time to worry about other things... like how to feed natural disaster victims. While straightening my hair.


Xo Sare