Monday, November 9, 2009

All Roads Lead to a Good Moisterizer...

Much to my husband's chagrin, I am nothing if not predictable. For example, when there are two roads diverged at a major intersection...I will inevitablely travel the path to the closest retail shopping establishment. I sat at the stop light this morning, I had a major decision to make: Turn right in the direction of the car dealership to once and for all take care of the burnt out tail and brake lights on my car......or turn left into the town center to pick-up my much needed deep hydrating boutique moisterizer.

As the light changed, there was no hesitation. Despite my husband's almost hourly chorus of nagging emails, tweets, voicemails, texts and instant messages regarding the car - my actions were intuitive. I made a beeline for the "chi-chi," "fru-fru" cosmetics store. The sentiment, "A good moisterizer is better than any vitamin," echoed through my head. It sounded like some glorious and sage advice that had once rolled off the tongues of Diana Vreeland, Coco Chanel, Jaqueline Kennedy Onassis, or at the very least, RuPaul. Yet, it was simply copy for a new skincare product advertised in a recent SELF magazine.

"Moisterizer!" "Vitamin!" "Brakelight!" The words riccocheted through my thoughts like ping pong balls. As I eased my car into a prime parking spot in front of Pottery Barn, I knew that what I was about to do was no small feat. To pull off the equivalent of a cosmetics "quickie," I had to be a woman on a mission - get in, get the goods and get out....without any upsell and purchase of additional products and services.

As I strode confidently across the street, just steps from the open shop door, the bark ring tone on my iPhone rang out. Shit! My husband! Damnit! I stood holding the barking phone as other shoppers gawked and stepped out of my way. "I will DEAL with the car, LATER!" I think I angrily said ou tloud and let the call slink into voicemail. But there would be no message, because, like clockwork, in five minutes, the phone would bark again.

It was now or never. I had a strict timetable to keep surrounding bus schedules and soccer practice. Circling back with kids in tow, was really not the best case scenario. The last time I drug the five-year-old, aka The Crazy Man, along on my quest for the perfect skinny jeans, he discovered eight new GapBody fragrances and to spite me, sprayed them all on his hair - at once. We both left the store smelling like potent combinations of Designer Imposters cologne, Deep Woods Off, rose hips and wet dog. On rainy days, when the lingering smell can be detected in the car, I am reminded of his hijinx and how it touched off everyone's allergies.

When all was said and done, I was able to pull off an impressive trifecta: got the moisterizer, got the car fixed AND got everyone to their practices reasonably on-time. But later, I knew I would have to patiently listen to my husband's monotonous "man-trum" (man tantrum) over car maintenance and why he didn't appreciate my cavialier attitude about brakelight safety. I knew that while, he wouldn't understand it, the explanation was elementary...While you can't go too far on the road less traveled without brakelights, you do, however, have a much better chance of talking yourself out of a fine, ticket or warning with glowing, dewy, well-moisterized skin.

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