Oh, outrageously-opulent-lifestyle-championed-by-credit-cards-everywhere,
how you call to me. While I have always seen shopping as me just doing my
patriotic duty to help keep the economy afloat, alas, the tinderbox that is
Wall Street has imploded, and it seems that a budget may be in order.
And it wouldn’t it just be so cruel to find my newfound
frugality mocked by the most perfect nail polish color to ever grace the aisles
of Ulta. That tiny bottle filled with a luminescent pink confection and peachy
sheen cost an outrageous $10, and what else would it be called, but,
‘Recessionista’.
Rest assured, beauty universe, the irony is not lost on me.
It’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have been in Ulta anyways,
where hundreds of women are daily led to the checkout counter like sheep to the
slaughter, their arms brimming with girly must-haves. But really, Essie? Why
must you remind me of my commitment to thriftiness with a guilt trip of a name
like ‘Recessionista’, all the while looking so chipper and perfect for my
expectant fingertips? All you have done is remind me of what I should not have.
I hope you are happy.
Tease.
