On any given day you can go into stores like Sephora or Bluemercury, and find a person like myself. I'll be the one with a product jammed into my nose breathing deep, grinning from ear to ear. I'm not alone. There are a bunch of us out there. You know us by our medicine cabinets, cosmetic train cases, and showers.
If one of your friends has 8 different sets of shampoo and conditioner it is a good sign that they are one. By one, I mean a Product Whore.
It is a label I am not ashamed of. Sure my friends make fun of me. They attempt to drag me out of beauty boutiques after minute 35 rolls around and I have picked up my fifth bottle of liquid satisfaction. Some spend money on handbags, shoes, and even clothes. I buy product. I love them and I love it.
When I write, "It", I am referring to the act of walking into a store and having my olfactory system bombarded by whiffs of lip glosses, deep conditioning hair masques, and perfume. "It" being the purchase of a tangerine scented refreshing spray and keeping the box it came in for days longer than is truly needed.
When a Product Whore acquires an Esthetician License and gains discounts at beauty supply stores all hell breaks loose.
Take a look at my vanity and you can see what all hell breaking loose looks like.
As much as it pains me to admit, products are not a panacea. They occasionally fail me, but I never have to squeeze my tush into one or ask if it makes me look fat.
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