Last fall I preserved my keratin treatment by avoiding the gym for four days. I didn't do anything more strenuous than a gentle stroll to the mailbox. But I'm going to the gym tomorrow, and I can never tell how
I suddenly realized I didn't own a flat-iron. How can I have made it this far into the 2000s without one? I know I'm retrograde, but really, what's next? Will I cop to not owning a single thong?*
So anyway, I ran off to Ulta to buy a flat-iron. I picked this model based on plate size. I didn't want the smallest size, because I don't see myself merely straightening a few wisps. And of course, I wasn't going to go mental and get a super-awesome semi-professional model.
|Conair InfinitiPro 1 3/4 in. rainbow titanium-coated flat iron|
I was damned if I was going to spend over $50 on the stupid thing. I hope it's OK.
They were having a Buy Two Get One Free deal on L'Oreal products, so I also bought three mascaras.
|L'Oreal Telescopic mascara|
Actually, I should probably buy more. I should probably have one for each car. And one for each suitcase. How the hell do I keep ending up being somewhere without my makeup? I'm a beauty blogger, for heaven's sake. I should be carrying the full Kardashian on my person at all times.
I blame my predilection for changing purses. I'm constantly re-packing my stuff into a different bag, and I keep trying to Pare Things Down. But all I do is show up somewhere and realize I don't have my checkbook or my wallet or my license. OR MY MAKEUP.
I should just go all Olson twin and carry a purse the size of a Hefty trash bag.
|You could fit a hell of a lot of makeup in that.|
Finally, there's this.
|Revlon nail enamel in Wild, image courtesy of drugstore.com|
I had no business buying it. I have so much nail polish, you'd think I was a nail blogger. And I'm not exaggerating. I'd post photographs of my drawer full of Chanel polishes, but I have too much self-respect.
Wait a minute. That's not really true. I mean, if I had self-respect, I wouldn't head straight to the internet any time I wanted to embarrass myself. But there's no point in admitting this sort of thing if you're not going to back it up with cold, hard facts. OK, internet. I'll go count them.
* * * * *
I'm back. I got as high as 84 before I decided that there was no need for me to be that accurate when documenting my hoarding.
ANYWAY. I don't have that many bottles of green polish. And St. Patrick's Day is coming. And it would never do to let the leprechauns sneak up on me. Constant vigilance, people.