We've been through a lot together. You've been around all my life, and in case you're suffering from salicylic acid flashbacks from the 90s, I'd like to remind you that "all my life" is 30 years. I'm not 16 anymore. So you can stop with the pissy hormonal breakouts any time. Go talk to my eyelids. They seem to think I'm pushing 40, so maybe you could all come to some happy agreement and pretend to be 26 again. I wouldn't mind that at all. Just don't talk to my lips. 26 was a traumatizing year for them, what with the Fever Blister Explosion of 2006. And don't try to beguile me with math and logic and tell me that at age 26 I was actually in my 27th year of life, counting year 0 and all that jazz. There's no loophole here for you. You know what I mean and your silly semantics aren't going to work on me. You've been warned. Shape up, clear up, or it's back to the Noxema for you!!
Dear Tights--
I am very pleased with your ability to turn my legs some other color than pasty-pale and I want to commend you for the valiant effort you have put up against my weapons-grade toe nails. I know it's not an easy task to resist the temptation to rip, shred, run and otherwise quit being effective as seamless leg coverings. Your cousins, the nylons, haven't been able to do it, no matter how often those toes-in-question are trimmed, filed and pedicured. So kudos to you for standing up to the challenge! That being said, I think you sometimes take yourselves a little too seriously. "Tights" is just a name... like "hose." So when I use the annoying grid on the back of your packaging to pick a pair that's supposed to fit my height & weight, don't be so unyielding as to cause me to commiserate with sausages and armadillos eaten by boa constrictors. Loosen up a bit. I promise it won't cause me to lose any respect for you or be a denial of your name.
Dear Burt's Bees--
I am a big fan of your product. I think you got it right the first time though and can probably stop making a new formula for every trendy health-food that comes out. I will try each new formula just in case you happen to surpass the greatness of the original so I suppose I'm only fueling the problem, but I'm only buying one because so far your other versions just aren't that great. Peppermint oil was the kicker and when you remove or hide that behind cloves, pomegranate or acai berry extracts... well, it just sort of ruins it for me. That original formula is so great that I have
Dear M.A.C. --
You tempt me with your delicious smelling, beautifully colored, incredibly comfortable lipsticks and lip glosses. I already carry around 3 of each with me in my purse, so really, could you give me a break? I've proclaimed your greatness to the internet at large and even gifted your products to my friends. The Lace has a pro-card (Thanks to The Yellow One) so you know we'll keep coming back. Please stop showing me all the amazing colors that I don't own. I don't have a large enough allowance to purchase all that I desire, nor the storage space in my tiny bathroom to properly display your greatness, so you taunt someone else. As for your incredible variety of eyeshadow colors... well... just know that someday they will be mine. Not all of them, because not even I can justify 3 square feet of green eyeshadow, but I will one day own enough colors to feel that I have a suitably representative sample... so maybe just 100 or so. It's a goal, and a lofty one at that, so be patient with me and stop coming out with limited edition colors that are so perfect or just what I'd been wanting, because I have enough colors to conquer in your regular collection. Thank you.
Dear Spanx/Assets/Other Spanx-type Products--
I know that you wouldn't have gained such popularity amongst my peers if you didn't have some value and thus a reasonable amount of success. I happen to fall in that unhappy (if small) segment of the population for which you seem to be able to only do jack and or squat. I do appreciate your ability to squish my hudge down so that there is an illusion of one-bellyness, instead of the truth: two bellies divided by the Mason-Dixon line of my belly button. I would appreciate this more if it didn't come at the cost of causing my already Kansas-like rear end to appear even flatter than the Antiplano of southwest Bolivia, which I didn't think possible. I'm also not really a fan of your supposedly non-binding, non-rolling leg bands that both bisect my not-insubstantial thighs and roll up to very uncomfortable, unmentionable places. All those things I would gladly endure if any of them were able to take my square hips and make them appealingly round. I would submit to a flat posterior and misshapen thighs for round hips... at least I think I would. All in all, I have found your products to be worthless, useless, and disappointing. I remain ever vigilant for a new product that will hide my hudge, round my hips and leave me with the illusion thighs slightly less lumpy than reality.
Sincerely and with all due respect,
The Bean
1 comment:
Dear Sephora:
How does my bank card just manage to fly out of my purse every time I enter your store? Your bright, forgiving lights. Your endless colors and brushes. Not to mention your entire wall of fragrance.
I think we need to break up for a while, Sephora. My M.A.C. habit is really getting annoyed with you.
I will miss you and try to walk the other way in Willowbend as to not be tempted by your new display of Urban Decay.
Love,
Skittlefrau
Kari
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