In my head there is this scene that plays out, it’s a dark and dimly lit room. There are several ladies seated in these foldable chairs each clasping onto their filled to the brim cosmetics bag. We nervously smile at each other, making minimal eye contact as we fidget in our chairs.Who would be the first to speak? I muster up the courage, and stand the sound of the folding chair moving backward echoes through the stark room. I make my confession, “Hello, my name is Danielle and I am a (insert pause and gulp here) Make-up-holic.” The women respond with a “Hello Danielle” as their perfectly lined, filled, and glossed lips show smiles of appreciation for breaking the ice.
I tell my story, I begin with the beginning of how I feel in love with lipstick, as soon as my small body would allow me to hoist myself onto my mother’s dresser so that I may get involved with her lipstick. I then move through the tales of adventures growing up trying to get lipglosses and peel off nail polishes. Then it’s time for the transitional phase in highschool, where I began to make real purchases. I worked as a secretary on weekends and how I would buy make up at the drugstore. Leading to oodles of caboodles filled with my acquisitions. And college, where I first addressed the issue and tried to decrease expenditures. It was more of a bandaid effort, after graduating and working full-time I found I had money to spend on little luxuries. The issue resurfaced. It declined after I took some time off from work as the well had run dry on little luxuries. Soon I was back and had an even higher income and this time when i fell of the wagon, I had a nudge from a fellow make up lover. Even when I took some time off from work again to finish my master’s project and worked part time, I was still in using. I had been lured in my luxury brands who offered discounts, Mac, Bobbi Brown, Saks, the allure was too much. I have decreased the actual expenditure, but I can’t seem to stop the love. I read blogs like Karla Sugar and Temptalia and feel the desire still there. Thankfully I have managed to get a hold of my senses and put down the charge card. I end my story by telling the ladies that I have come before them because they know what I’ve put myself through, and if my story can be of help then I am glad, to which they respond with a smile. Then lady after lady tells her story. We end the meeting by pouring out the contents of our make up bag onto the table before us.
For some reason I came up with that scenario, I wonder if there is a make-up -holic support group. Is anyone else out there with the same affliction?