So, last weekend I went to a Pamper Party. A Pamper Party is when your friend, who decided to become a Mary Kay consultant, invites people over to drink wine and buy things.
The morning of the Pamper Party, I said to my husband, "I will not buy ANYTHING."
The afternoon of the Pamper Party, I said to my mother and sister over FaceTime, "I will not buy ANYTHING."
I'm sure you can see where this is going.
7:30PM rolls around. My toddler daughter is asleep in her crib bathed in the soft glow of her nightlight and the steady sound of her white noise machine. My husband is sprawled on the couch, bathed in the blue lights of the television and his laptop, both of which are tuned into different sporting events. I am walking downstairs to my friend's unit.
I am the second to arrive. The wine is being opened. Introductions are made. When the fourth and final mother (we are all mothers) arrives, we go down to the basement. Let the pampering begin.
We are seated on the L-shaped couch, four individual rectangular mirror facing us, reflecting back our tired eyes and dry winter skin. More wine is poured.
What I learn about pampering is that there are many steps. You must first wash your hands, because you will be touching your face with your hands. This too, the act of handwashing at a Pamper Party, has many steps. You must first remove your rings and pre-moisturize with something oily. Then you must exfoliate. Only after exfoliating may you actually cleanse your hands with soap. This is followed by another moisturizer. All of these substances smell like cucumber. They are advertised as being "White Tea" flavored.
Once our motherly hands have been pampered, we are allowed to pamper our faces. We commence in dabbing, wiping, swirling, scrubbing. I learn that Mary Kay women only touch their eyes with their ring fingers. I also learn that if you fall asleep with mascara leftovers crusted upon your lashes, eyelid mites emerge from the dark recesses of your lid folds and feast on those mascara leftovers. Our wine glasses are topped up.
I do not want eyelid mites. I do want a soft, glowing, mite-free face.
At 10:30, I go back up the stairs to my unit. Going to a Pamper Party is like being Odysseus on Circe’s island. I thought I was gone for an hour and a half. I thought I wasn’t buying anything.
“What’s that in your hands?” my husband asks.
The morning of the Pamper Party, I said to my husband, "I will not buy ANYTHING."
The afternoon of the Pamper Party, I said to my mother and sister over FaceTime, "I will not buy ANYTHING."
I'm sure you can see where this is going.
7:30PM rolls around. My toddler daughter is asleep in her crib bathed in the soft glow of her nightlight and the steady sound of her white noise machine. My husband is sprawled on the couch, bathed in the blue lights of the television and his laptop, both of which are tuned into different sporting events. I am walking downstairs to my friend's unit.
I am the second to arrive. The wine is being opened. Introductions are made. When the fourth and final mother (we are all mothers) arrives, we go down to the basement. Let the pampering begin.
We are seated on the L-shaped couch, four individual rectangular mirror facing us, reflecting back our tired eyes and dry winter skin. More wine is poured.
What I learn about pampering is that there are many steps. You must first wash your hands, because you will be touching your face with your hands. This too, the act of handwashing at a Pamper Party, has many steps. You must first remove your rings and pre-moisturize with something oily. Then you must exfoliate. Only after exfoliating may you actually cleanse your hands with soap. This is followed by another moisturizer. All of these substances smell like cucumber. They are advertised as being "White Tea" flavored.
Once our motherly hands have been pampered, we are allowed to pamper our faces. We commence in dabbing, wiping, swirling, scrubbing. I learn that Mary Kay women only touch their eyes with their ring fingers. I also learn that if you fall asleep with mascara leftovers crusted upon your lashes, eyelid mites emerge from the dark recesses of your lid folds and feast on those mascara leftovers. Our wine glasses are topped up.
I do not want eyelid mites. I do want a soft, glowing, mite-free face.
At 10:30, I go back up the stairs to my unit. Going to a Pamper Party is like being Odysseus on Circe’s island. I thought I was gone for an hour and a half. I thought I wasn’t buying anything.
“What’s that in your hands?” my husband asks.
it is hard to resist the urge and don't we all want nice soft hands and a glowing face.
ReplyDeleteI loved so much about this slice!
ReplyDeleteFirst this sounds like too much effort: "This too, the act of handwashing at a Pamper Party, has many steps. You must first remove your rings and pre-moisturize with something oily. Then you must exfoliate. Only after exfoliating may you actually cleanse your hands with soap. This is followed by another moisturizer. All of these substances smell like cucumber. "
Second, this was super funny and frightening, "I do not want eyelid mites. I do want a soft, glowing, mite-free face."
Last, "What's that in your hands?" lmao!!
All in the name of fighting those eyelid mites! I love this slice. The power that friendship, community, and yes, wine, have over our days makes me smile. Wishing you a soft and glowing rest of your weekend.
ReplyDeleteWhat’s that in your hand? Perfect ending... you set it up well!
ReplyDeleteLOL!! This really hits home. I have been to many different shopping parties and always come back with something -usually the biggest shopper!
ReplyDeleteUgh, those parties are the worst! I always say I won't, but I always do!
ReplyDeleteYou were lulled by the warning of the eye-mite Sirens-zero percent your fault!
ReplyDeleteHm. Tried a comment via phone, which didn't seem to stick, so I'm now on a more reliable device. I learned so much from your slice, thanks to its specificity. I'm excited to see where else your writing takes us this March!
ReplyDelete