Several years ago, my friends and I got together every Wednesday for dinner. Girls’ night was the perfect mid-week break from work and our fiancés/boyfriends at the time – an opportunity to catch up and gossip over cocktails and appetizers. As time as passed, we’ve become caught up in mortgages, marriages, and most recently, motherhood. These days, I’m literally lucky if I get the opportunity to shave my legs on a weekly basis, much less find time to have dinner with my friends that often anymore. While it doesn’t happen every week, we still make an effort to get together every month or so.
In the fall, one of my girlfriends called everyone up and invited us over for dinner. It was going to be a little different, she warned us. Somehow, she had gotten roped into hosting a makeup party and needed us to come over and humor this sales rep. While I definitely would have preferred our standard, snacks and wine routine, it was still an opportunity to get out of the house sans children, so of course I said I would come.
Normally, when you attend these candle or Tupperware parties, it’s a group of about 25 women, mostly friends and family of the host and most of which you don’t know that well. The parties I’ve been to have been pretty uneventful for the most part. However, this would be different considering the only guests consisted of my six closest friends. We probably aren’t the best group of girls for this kind of thing. None of us are really high-maintenance, expensive makeup wearing women. We’re a normal, slightly immature, wine-drinking, joke-cracking kind of bunch. I almost felt bad for The Makeup Lady. Surely she had no idea what she was getting herself into and surely none of us were actually going to buy any of the crap she was selling.
When I arrived to my friend’s house that night, I pulled into her driveway, parking directly behind a gorgeous, black Mustang, which was sporting The Makeup Lady’s company logo near the bumper. Holy shit. A Makeup Mustang?? Maybe we were the ones who didn’t know what we were getting ourselves into after all.
The Makeup Lady was gorgeous. She was probably ten years older than me, but looked a hell of a lot more trendy and hip than I will ever hope to be. She was dressed to the nines – a leopard print blouse (the classy kind of leopard print, not the trashy kind), a black pencil skirt, and four inch pumps. Her hair was blond, short and cute and of course, her makeup was impeccable. She was intimidating to say the least. She showed up in the Makeup Mustang, for god’s sake.
That night was a blur. All I know is that I drank a lot of wine and spent a lot of money. Damn, that lady was good. Seriously, I’ve never purchased makeup anywhere except for the grocery store or Target and this chic convinced me that I needed every fucking product on the planet. Not only that, I agreed to hosting my own party (who the hell would I invite? All six of my friends were there!). PLUS, I apparently set up a coffee date with this woman so that I, too, could sell makeup and strive towards driving a kick ass sports car. It was totally that Mustang that sucked me in. And all the wine, needless to say.
I woke up the next morning ashamed, regretful, and hung over. I had fallen for it. Spent a bunch of money, booked a party, and basically signed up to become a sales rep myself. She was good. She deserved to be driving that Mustang.
The Makeup Lady called me at least ten times in the weeks that followed. I had absolutely zero intention of going through with the party that I had booked or selling makeup for a career, for that matter. But every time she called me, we’d chat for a half an hour like old girlfriends and she’d convince me once again why I just HAD to work for her. In my defense, I’d talk to the mailman for half an hour every day if I could just for the sake of the adult interaction. Eventually, I realized that the only way to break it off with her was to ignore her calls, block her e-mails, and delete the Facebook friend request she had sent me. Twice.
So here’s my advice, ladies. If you’re going to attend one of these parties – candles, nail decals, cookware – don’t drink. I swear, these sales reps are successful solely due to the fact that when women get together for any kind of party, they drink a lot of wine. Most women love to spend money on a normal basis. Wine-drunk women will not only become your bestie within a matter of minutes, but they will practically hand over their credit card information without even knowing what they’re paying for. While I have absolutely no recollection of it, I’m pretty sure I purchased a $45 makeup brush….. Really???? That makeup brush was probably worth more than the entire contents of my makeup bag at the time.
Most important, if you’re attending a makeup party and you see The Makeup Lady’s Mustang outside, go home. You’ll thank me when your friends call you up bitching about how they spent hundreds of dollars and all signed up to be sales reps.
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