I realized something this morning when I was blow drying my hair (the first time in a week, feel sorry for Grahm). As I was looking around our bathroom, I noticed some of my bad habits screaming at me. I like to elbow up in 409 and Comet (I mean, hello? You do all kinds of grizz things in there, AND it's where you go to get clean... something's wrong with this), so I'm not exactly talking about hygiene. I'm talking about spending (my middle name) on frivolous things (basically the only thing I'm good at in life).
Do you ever buy something like every time you're out of the house, not because you need it? Well, I do. And I'm not even talking about Forever-21 sprees (that's an entirely different beast of pocketbook). Almost every time I'm out, I buy one, two, or (okay, okay) ALL of these products.
Conditioner. I literally have eight different kinds in my shower right now. And yes, I did arrange them according to height. (I obviously don't have enough free times on my hands.) I don't know what it is. I love squirting different goops on my head. With every dollop, I always pray my fine pansy strands will magically transform into a thick voluminous mane with one short lathering cycle.
I also love the different smells. Some I keep around just to add coconut to my hair. Who doesn't like to remind people of Hawaii freakin' goodness and sunshine? Some of the healthy ones I have to mask with my good smelling ones, which I'm sure totally defeats the purpose. For every one bottle of shampoo, I go through like four of conditioner.
Nail polish. While my collection isn't exactly huge, it's still in an infant stage. I recently threw away all of my nail polish, because it was older than my neighbor's varicose veins (lovely). During this "clean out" process, I decided to become a snob and only buy OPI or China Glaze colors. Like there's any real difference... except in price. Holy Aunt Jemima, it's like $10 bucks a pop.
The funny part is, I don't even like to paint my nails. It draws attention to my little-smokey fingers and my fetus fingernails that I like to bite off. I also chip away at the paint like there's no tomorrow. I don't know what it is, man. It's like therapy or something. Instant gratification. Chip, chip, chip.
Moisturizer. Whenever an 18-year-old-smoother-than-a-baby's-butt troll comes on my TV screen trying to sell me some kind of cream I can use to have amazing skin, I automatically feel the need to buy it. I'm so optimistic in products, it's unbelievable. In my little brain I know the girl on the screen hasn't even sprouted her first zit let alone her first wrinkle. But that doesn't stop me from needing a new, better eye cream, face mask, night goop, primer, moisturizer, suntan lotion, etc. Out of control. I've got cream coming out of my arm pits over here.
And that crap ain't cheap, my friends. Darn you baby trolls telling me "Im worth it" and all that, pretending like you eliminated the lines that zigzagged across you perfect almond-shaped eyes. You got me thinking my bathroom drawer holds the secret fountain of youth... when you and I both know a change gonna come on my noggin' no matter what preemptive measures I take.
So there you have it.
My deepest fears in life revealed, apparently. Split ends, cheap nail polish , and future crow's feet.