The evil that is Mary Kay.

Memoir Monday.

So, I got suckered in to attending a Mary Kay party once.

This is a little recap of that traumatizing evening.
Enjoy.

I only agreed to go attend this party because I am a nice person who will do just about anything for a friend, including humiliation by mascara.
My betrothed is right - I am not a girl.

I was actually sweating at the thought of putting make up on with other girls. I don't do this kind of stuff. I have never done this. I am almost 30 (yeah, that's right!) and I don't even really know how to do my own make up.

Yet I have survived somehow...go figure!

So, here I am at the table with all the other girls. They are all very cute.

One of them is a lot younger than I am. Young enough to wear off those little short shorts with stuff written on the ass that she can't really pull off but it doesn't matter because she's so young and bubbly. These are shorts that I would never leave the house in, even to just let the dog out for fear that my fatness would be exposed to the world, and an angry mob would show up at my door with torches demanding that I be burned at the stake unless I cover myself. So, of course I hate her and all of her self confidence.

Then there's the Mary Kay lady, wearing her little smock and pearls with all her little Mary Kay cases and products. Am I the only one who noticed that she had a very distinct make up line along her chin? Do they not teach blending? I know nothing about make up, but I know that your face and the rest of your body should be the same color.
That's just my anxiety talking. I'm sure she is very nice.

At least there are drinks at this party. Thank God.
Girly drinks, but that's okay. Any alcohol will do in times like these.

So, I've had a mini pina colada with whipped cream and I'm ready to try some products.

I've got my little mirror and my little tray and whatever the hell else she had put in front of me.

Honestly, I wasn't paying attention.

I was just praying for this to be over as quickly as possible.

I try my first product. It's a lip exfoliator which is basically sand that you rub on your lips to make them soft. Hell, I've made out with boys on the beach and gotten a better exfoliation! How much is this stuff?

Then, it's on to the derm abrasion kit. We applied that to the back of one hand so we can see how much younger our one hand looks after using it and therefore be enticed to purchase the kit at some ungodly amount. All I know is that the vericose veins on that hand are much more noticable. That's good, because when I get so drunk tonight because of this make up trauma that I need IV fluids, there won't be any problems.

Next is the 5 step facial preparation process. I couldn't tell you what her five steps are because I really didn't pay attention, again.
I know what my steps are:

1. Receive hot air treatment to face as administered by dog's panting as early as she sees fit which is usually way earlier than I see fit.

2. Receive a more aggressive facial awakening as administered by dog's tongue when hot air treatment fails to illicit a response.

3. Fall out of bed, trying to avoid damage to the face as it inevitably makes contact with the nightstand and/or floor as a result of more aggressive shoving of the dog's face into my body when previous steps have failed.
She really didn't have a kit to meet the needs of that routine.

Next came the make up. And the sweating. And a little shortness of breath. And just a slight panic attack. The boys are behind us on the sofa playing trivia and drinking beer. Can't I just go hang out with them until this is over? I don't have to wear mascara to beat them in the 80's categories.
Crap.

I'm still sweating and she wants me to pick out a color palette. For the love of everything that is not Mary Kay, why did I agree to do this????
I chose the most natural and plain color palette I could find. I put on the eye shadow step by step.

That was okay. I thought it looked okay. Allright, maybe I could actually do this.

Then the eyeliner.

Oh for crying out loud, there is a reason I do not wear eyeliner! I actually made the Mary Kay lady do one eye because I told her I didn't know what I was doing. She showed me how to lightly feather it, blah blah blah.

I did the other eye just like I thought she told me to. Of course, the girl next to me smiled a little too much and said yes, it looked just like the other one, very nice, yeah, pretty.

Bitch.

The mascara just about put me over the top. When the Mary Kay lady has to say 'for those of you who aren't familiar with mascara...' to a crowd of five people in order to avoid singling me out, it's not going well.
I skipped the blush and I think that's when I became the outsider of the party. That's how I got guilted in to doing the lips. I didn't want to be ostracized any more than I already was.

At least I still had my dignity. I took my half professionally made up on one side and not so professionally made up on the other side face, my 30 some year old left hand and my 20 some year old right hand and got the hell out of there while the getting was good.

I didn't even let her take the 'after' picture she wanted to take. I figure she can just take my 'before' picture and photo shop something that will look much better than the 'very nice, pretty, oh that looks so good' job that I did according to my party mates who are apparently horrible liars.

And total bitches.

I hope they get fat. Does that make me a bad person?

***The Mary Kay lady is actually very nice. If she or anyone who attended this party is reading Girly Bitz, please understand that this is all in good fun. It's just my self deprecation talking. You know I love you guys.