I think I have a problem. I have tons of beauty products. Tons. I never understood my need to have suitcases filled with products is something that is the result of me simply being female, or if I am a beauty products hoarder in need of an intervention. I think I started collecting makeup when I was about two years old. And, that’s the thing, I don’t wear the makeup, I collect it. When my chubby 2-year old hands wrapped around the smooth surface of a Dr. Pepper flavored lip-balm for the first time, life as I knew it changed forever. Every time I received lip glosses, body glitter, nail polishes, and cheap eye shadows, I would store them in shoe boxes, inside my drawers and under the bed. When no one was looking, I would pull out my secret stash and just gaze at the products, examining the packing; opening and closing tubes; and, envisioning what it would be like to wear the products as a big girl.
Well, I’m a big girl now, and I still do the same thing. But, finally I think have uncovered what may be the reason behind my illness. The other day, I was standing in my mom’s room, and was amazed at the site that was laid out before me on her vanity: tons of unused beauty products. I checked under the bed, and guess what? More unused beauty products. Then, I looked in the corner of her room, in her closet, and in her drawers. And, what did I see? A total accumulation of products that rivals my own. Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that my obsession with beauty products is an infectious disease passed into my bloodstream from my mom. And, just like me, she rarely ever wears makeup. I wonder if she pulls her stash out and night like a 2-year old kid, examining the packing; opening and closing tubes; and, envisioning what it would be like to wear the products.
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