Lotions. Whoever invented them deserves a trophy, a medal, or some type of bonus. They also deserve to foot the bill for the therapy expenses I’ve racked up in the attempt to rid myself of this addiction.
To me, dressing without first slathering on body lotion is worse than leaving the house naked. Twice a day, a good half hour is devoted to the application of hundreds of potions. I have a lotion for my face, for my hands, for my tummy, for my elbows, for my knees, and for my feet. I also have creams for my eyes, my cuticles, and my neck.
Pathetic, I know. Especially since I’m probably applying the same type of cream to all these body parts and only the label on the bottle says otherwise.
Rub, rub, rub. They say the answer to avoiding wrinkles from becoming DEEP wrinkles is mosturizing and only the good Lord and my significant other know just how much mosturizing I do.
Non-scented, fruit-scented, perfume-scented, I’ve tried them all. I’m sure I could have purchased a small island already with the money I’ve spent on lotions. But there’s just something about smooth, nice-smelling, and well lubricated skin.
My elbows are less dark thanks to my special elbow-lightening cream. My ass is less dimpled, my neck is more taut, and my breasts are less prone to sagging. In addition, my skin is smoother and more supple. Or so I hope.
I’m certain any day now, a scout for Dove is going to spot me on the bus and sign me on instantly. I too shall be featured on billboards, magazines, and television ads. All thanks to my devotion to lotion.
Were I to do an ad for Master Card, if would go as follows: Ticket to Bali: $2, 045. Full body massage by good looking cabana boy: $150. Lotion being applied: priceless.
What beauty product can you NOT live without?