Sins of the Flesh

Yesterday Shirl Grrrl shared the painful truth of her descent into Mary Kay’s world. Shirl’s cousin Amy, a hardcore Mary Kay pusher, seduced the innocent and wholesome Shirl by providing her free samples of the devil’s own anti-aging regimen. Shirl is now proof that Mama was right—even just a taste of the devil’s sweet fruit can lead you down the road to ruin. Shirl’s one night stand with the Mary Kay samples has led to her enslavement to the desires of the flesh, a full blown addiction.

No longer a low-maintenance woman, Shirl now needs a flow chart to get ready for bed each night. As she stands before her altar of Mary Kay products, she must make sure she applies them all in the correct order. Should she fail to properly perform the sacred anti-aging ritual, she will be turned into an old crone as she sleeps, her fine lines replaced by crevices so deep her son will be able to push Hot Wheels through them. Everyone knows you can’t screw around with Mary Kay—or Mother Nature.

V-Grrrl is proud to say she has resisted the temptations offered by the Mary Kay vipers. She refuses to worship with the pushers of potions and promises. Instead, she’s a drugstore cowboy, using no-nonsense Neutrogena products and pledging her undying love only to sunscreen, which she’s been slathering on her face nearly every day since she was 19. She’s never had a manicure or a pedicure. She refuses to be enthralled by hair products or pricey salon services. She does her own color, and while every product for curly hair promises not to leave it greasy, stiff, or sticky, every freakin product for curly hair leaves it greasy, stiff, or sticky. V-Grrrl has seen the light and she’s not buying those ugly bottles of lies anymore. Her hair may be wild, but at least it’s soft.

But brothers and sisters, pride doth goeth before the fall. While V-Grrrl can claim the righteousness of pared down skin and hair care, her vanity has made her a fool for makeup. God save the Grrrls! Y’all have heard of Sodom and Gomorrah , well V-Grrrl was undone by Ulta and Sephora—the beauty temples that stock cosmetics of every imaginable category at every price point. Sucked into the evil Ulta cult by $10 off coupons and buy one, get one free deals, V-Grrrl accumulated a massive stash of eye shadow, pencils, blushes, foundations, and lipstick. She has a mini chest of drawers where all her eye products are sorted by color, and several metal baskets hold her blushes, bronzers, brushes, foundations and concealers.

If Ulta led V-Grrrl astray, Sephora wants her soul. Thanks to Sephora.com, V-Grrrl has been known to lose an hour in the afternoon, putting together wish lists online. She is counting down the days until she goes to Paris in November, not because of the wonder of the Louvre or the Eiffel Tower, no, her mind is possessed by the luscious delights that await her in the Sephora store on the Champs Elysee.

There’s something sacred about those moments in front of the mirror, when we cast off our old selves and witness a miraculous transformation—a new face for our shriveled little souls! Every morning when V-Grrrl baptizes her face with sunscreen and grabs her big fluffy makeup brush and applies her Cargo bronzer, she feels as if God has reached down from Heaven, touched her cheek, and said “Receive the look of life!” Immediately her pallor retreats and her color is restored. We’re sure Tammy Fay felt the same way about her mascara wand opening up the windows to her soul.

What can I say in closing except Peace, Love, and Lip Gloss y’all. See ya at the makeup counter—hope it’s in Paris.

September 29, 2005

Comments

[Lisa]

Hey V-Grrrl - I too have recently succumbed to Mary's facial repair kits to help restore the healthy glow that sleep used to give me.

And that prompts a question for you that my friends and I only recently started to ponder. Just when IS mid-life?

I turned 40 earlier this year and I wonder if by definition that is "middle-aged"? Because is so, I flatly refuse that label. Any woman still changing the diapers of her own babies or toddler just should NOT be called middle-aged. That's not fair and should be illegal.

I lovingly refer to my wrinkles as laugh lines so I figure we should come up with a more kinder, gentler word than "middle-aged" for those of us who slept through Mother Nature's first few maternal instinct alarm bells.

What do you think?

[V-Grrrl]

We're making progress, Lisa. Forty used to be old--now it's middle age. Remember when the mantra used to be "Don't trust anyone over 30!" Of course you don't remember it! You're not old enough to remember it--you're just a kid with kids in diapers!

Ask Mike about it--I'm sure he had a button with the slogan on it pinned to his denim jacket. ; )

V-Grrrl