Oh hell, I dug my cherished Chanel Coco perfume bottle from the bottom of my jewelry box (where I keep the best stuff, of course), removed the topper and breathed in the aroma… of rubbing alcohol mixed with rotten bell peppers.
I believe in using the good china, glasses and linens to celebrate even the most trite of occasions, if not every day. I wear my good, matching underwear often enough that it’s nothing special and I use that expensive pen to write grocery lists, BUT, when it comes to toiletries, I become some sort of weird hoarder with the cosmetic equivalent of Auschwitz syndrome. (and I already know I’m going to hell of even using that analogy – I couldn’t help myself)
Hello, my name is Donna [hi Donna] and I am afraid to use my own cosmetics.
What a loser! Seriously? Sometimes the perfume, designer mascara or incredibly expensive shampoo/conditioner combo is a frickin SAMPLE and I don’t want to use it… why? ‘Cause this isn’t a special enough occasion to use the tiny Aveda bottles I got the last time we stayed at a Kimpton Hotel. I know, right?
That’s been my secret for decades – publicly, I adore myself. “Make way for Queen Donna” and all that, but in private, in the bathroom no less, I keep the good stuff capped and tucked away for whatever occasion I may someday deem special enough to open it. Like…. meeting the real Queen, perhaps. I’ve had luxurious vacations, meet-the-family visits, black-tie events, first days at work, last days at work, awards galas, graduations, opening nights and anniversaries that have NOT tempted me to break the seal of the La Fleur moisturizing oil I got ON SALE last Christmas.
So, when I smelled that rotten Chanel, I realized something awful: this shit goes to waste if you don’t use it. Those divine scents and slickery textures will rot like a forgotten Easter egg cleverly hidden behind the couch if you don’t USE THEM!
SO, last Saturday, I did something amazing. I used everything possible I had been hoarding all this time, even thuse things that were in the bottom of my jewelry box. I shampooed, conditioned, moisturized, styled, made-up, moisturized some more and perfumed with the best my cosmetic case had to offer. I was drunk in scents and textures that made me feel as rich as a Hilton and a Marcos, all rolled into one. I took my time. I savored and I ADORED myself with goodies collected over years of denial and sensory starvation.
(okay, I probably went a little too far on that last sentence – I totally treat myself pretty darn well all the time. No one starving here)
Anywho, ya know what? I recommend it. In fact, I did it again on Monday. Today is Tuesday…. I drank my coffee, ate my breakfast, worked out, then got in the shower and brought out the big guns. All those little and big bottles of lovelies I’ve been denying myself came out were used up and tossed in the trash, never to be hoarded again.
Sure, my skin feels fan-frickin-tastic and I smell like the Greek Goddess Aphrodite visiting Oz on holiday, but the best part? I have made room for more toiletries and I cannot WAIT to treat myself to my future!