True Confessions of a Product Whore

Sunday?  Not-always-so-fun-day.

Sunday nights?  They’re just awful, right?  The weekend is over. The workweek starts all over again.  All the chores you didn’t get done still linger.  You’re maybe, possibly, still paying for all the fun you had.  The prospect of hearing an alarm clock in the morning makes you cringe.  No?  Lucky for you…I’m more than cringing at the thought of a wake-up call that comes long before the sun is up.  Blah!!!!

And if you’re like me, you’re already counting the days, the hours even, until the freedom bell rings next Friday night.  It’s a viscous cycle really.  And one I’ve tried to figure out how to make less craptastic.

So Part I to the good Sunday night is something great to get lost in on TV. If I’m really lucky the Hallmark Movie Channel (stop judging me immediately) is playing a mystery marathon.  Or maybe there will be a good Law & Order: SVU marathon on USA.  I love when they have themes like “the guest start did it” or “terrible teens”. Oh God! how I love an episode that revolves around teenage drama.  Even if I’ve seen it ten times I’ll watch it again.  A mystery marathon is my equivalent of comfort food.

This fall I also have Revenge and The Good Wife to look forward to. But same time/different channels means Revenge always wins.  Plus Sunday football pretty much screws up The Good Wife every week, but that’s a rant for a different day.

Part II is an effort to prep myself for the week ahead.  To get my shit together head in the game.  Depending on my mood and what’s going on the next day, sometimes I’ll be so bold as to try to pick out an outfit.  (Next to never works and I will curse myself Monday morning when I’m scrambling to find an outfit that doesn’t fill me with rage and I’ll vow to do better next week.  Which I don’t.)  If I’m committed I will pull out gym clothes to make the morning that much less painful.  Anything to try to keep the motivation alive.  Then I’ll make lunch. I’ll pull together what I need to bring to work and pile it near the bag I think I’ll use in the morning.  It’s not all that scientific though, believe it or not, sometimes effective.

And Part III of the successful Sunday night is to try to calm the mind and treat myself right, which means nails, face, body – the whole shallow exterior.  And it’s where my product whoring love comes into major play.

I’ve talked about it before. I love products. I am a marketers dream.  I can be seduced by a facemask with a clever name. I’m always on the quest for the perfect moisturizer, lotion, nail polish color, hair styling cream, flat iron, blush color, face wash….I could go on. But I will let my Sephora and Bliss bills speak for themselves.

I love to pamper myself.  All selfish and self-indulgent and that’s me!   And that’s what I try to make Sunday night’s all about.  So for tonight, I’m going to give a little peak behind the curtain with what I’m obsessed with these days.

Clarisonic:

No doubt you’ve heard about this little gem.  I’ve read about it countless times.  Read about what it promises to do.

“Cleans your face 6x better than washing by hand.” 

“Brightens!  Diminishes lines!”

“Softer, smoother, cleaner!”

It’s the facial in a box.  And let me tell you, I am not a fan of facials.  Bottom line?  They scare the hell out of me.  Now before you get all “you don’t know what you’re missing”, I’ve had them before.  A bunch of times. And with a few exceptions, I usually come out looking like I have a massive case of the chicken pox.  Red. Blotchy.  And extracted beyond all recognition.  Never mind that having to lay there with a mask on my face for God knows how long gives me a massive case of claustrophobia and anxiety.  And I’m not even claustrophobic.  I just can’t deal.  Oh, and it makes me incredible heinous. I don’t leave with a glow.  I leave with the shame of a 13 year old in dire need of a dermatologist.

So after several tries and wads of money later, I’ve taken fate into my own hands and walked through life with possibly clogged pores, but fairly decent skin.  And then I saw yet another ad for Clarisonic.  It was during my last trip to Bliss, while I was chilling in the waiting room, basking in the glow of a massage like no other, and trying to resist eating those deliciously evil mini brownies.  (For the record I’ve never had a facial at Bliss, and I’m sure they’re great.  But I’m just a big, fat coward.)  So back to Clarisonic…there was an ad in the magazine I was reading and it sucked me in.  I took it as a sign.  And after reading an epic amount of Internet reviews (mostly all telling me this thing was magical), I clicked a few buttons and less than 24 hours later had it in hand.

So it hasn’t even been a week, but I’ll be honest, using this face brush makes me feel very self-indulgent.  It’s a 60-second cycle (the built in timer is this girl’s best friend) and it leaves my skin looking all-aglow.  I also feel like I’m really getting in there – take that pores that I’ve neglected for years – and it makes me feel like I’m doing something good for my skin. In case you haven’t figured it all out just yet, I’m a bit on the vain side and fear looking like I’m getting older.  (I believe in some circles they call that being ‘human’.)  But the Clarisonic feels like an investment in the future me.  And even the middle of the road version – the Mia 2 – is less that one facial, so it’s already paid for itself in some ways.  (Queen of rationalization.  Party of one.)

One caveat, which does make me bristle, is a few reviews “warned” that since you are waking the dragon that’s living in your nose and chin that a breakout may happen. (I know…TMI…no body wants to hear this part.)  But I’m crossing my fingers it doesn’t get all ugly.  I’m not sure I can call out of work because I look like the elephant woman, but hopefully that’s a bridge I won’t have to cross.

Has anyone else tried the Clarisonic?  If you have any great stories to share, please do.  If you are going to tell me I just wasted my money, then I don’t want to hear from you.  I’d like to perpetuate my reality instead.  Use Clarisonic.  Look amazing.

Nail polish:

I’m totally obsessed with nail polish.  I hate the way my nails look without it.  To me it’s such a simple way to pull yourself together and to look like you take care of yourself.  Scraggly, unkempt nails make me cringe.  And while I can’t stand the look of pale polish against my pale skin, if that’s what tickles your fancy go for it.  Or if you’d rather go bare, I’m cool with that too.  I’m not here to make everyone run around in navy blues and deep brows.  But I am on the dark side.  Deal with it.  (I used to know this dude who seemed to have some sort of moral issue against dark nail polish.  If that was his deal breaker, it was a good thing we got that out of the way early, before I actually started to have real lusty feelings for him.)

Now I’ve been doing my nails myself since junior high easily.  My mom was liberal when it came to make-up and she did put a little polish on me when I was younger. I was a major girly-girl.  She even let me paint my dolls nails.  (Love you mom!)  And other than a small stint in the land of acrylic, to which I say, DO NOT do this to your nails. Yes, they look good with the polish on and the manicure lasts, what it does to your nails when you take them off and the time it takes to get them back to healthy….just not worth it in my opinion.  

Living in Cin-namon

And now I’m off my soapbox.

But Sunday is definitely a manicure day.  And while I’ll do fixes as needed during the week, because I’ve yet to find a polish that lasts a week (and see above if you’re going to tell me to try to gel craze), I don’t mind doing them.  It’s a ritual.  And it’s an excuse to buy new colors.  Though truth be told I’ve been wearing the same two colors for a better part of the past few months - Living in Cin-namon and Forbidden Fudge.  For one, I already know what they look like.  For two, I like them.  And I don’t care that I’m wearing brown polish in the summer.  Seasons don’t dictate my polish.  It’s like the “white after Labor Day” thing.  In case you haven’t heard….the rules no longer apply.  I may go back to navy, now that I’ve passed the 6-month mark at work and compared to some of the fashion choices I’ve seen there, navy blue nail polish on my would be the equivalent of me carrying  a Chanel bag every day.  Classically chic.

So obsession #2 – nail polish out the wazoo. I have a drawer of it. I just thinned it out and tossed some of them because they do get goopy.  And at least once a month I saw a moment of silence that OPI no longer makes Massachusetts Mulberry, which was the best red I’ve ever seen EVER.  Have yet to find anything that comes close to this.  So if anyone knows how to get a hold of a secret stash of MM, let me know. Consider my indebted to you for life or longer.

24-Heaven:

I’ve written about Bliss a whole mess of times because I truly believe that place has changed my life as I know it.  Their most recent product addition which I snatched up like a fat kid in a candy shop snatches up gummy sharks, is 24 Heaven.  It smells heavenly…subtle but still a little something there.  And while it’s marketed for the severely parched skin, which I don’t have, winter takes a beating on the skin and I love LOVE a long, hot shower, so my skin could use a taste of heaven.

Now what I do have it crappy elbows.  Elbows are fundamentally ugly anyway. I don’t care what anyone says.  And when they are dry….like people in tank tops in the summer wish ashy elbows….UGH!  Pet peeve. Shallow and stupid, sure.  But dry elbows annoy the crap out of me.  A close second to the unkempt nails. 

So I thought that for sure this stuff would make my icky little elbows as soft and pretty as humanly possible and what do you know?  It worked. I use 24 Heaven on my arms every night after the shower and it works grrrrrrrr-reat! (I’m getting all Tony the Tiger now.)

I highly recommend this product to anyone who’s looking to try something new.  Who suffers from old lady elbow.  Or who is trying to add something new to their product closet.  This is a goodie!

So there you have it. This week’s Sunday rundown of the products I’m currently lusting.  Time to go pamper myself and pretend the time on the clock isn’t accurate and that I’ll wake up in the morning to discover it’s Saturday morning all over again.

Or Sunday morning.