Yesterday, disaster struck. My eyelash curler broke. Because of my monumental vanity this is akin to some sort of civilization ending tragedy. Ok, not really, it's not like I notified FEMA. I'm exaggerating for dramatic effect. Sheesh.
I am a self proclaimed product junky. I can spend hours and hours perusing all the magical potions and creams that are suppose to make me pretty. The only reason I am not bankrupt from this is because my nearest Sephora store is in Las Vegas. When I was single and could spend my money as selfishly as I wanted, I could easily spend 20bucks on a new eyelash curler without even thinking about it. But now I have a problem because my eyelashes don't rank very high on the family finances priority list. So, instead of actually buying the fancy shmancy one I have been partial to in the past I gritted my teeth and bough one from Walmart. My eyelashes survived and all is well in the world again.
Now I am making a mental list of the little luxuries I have bid adieu to over the years in the name of financial security. The monthly facials that once seemed mandatory are but a faint memory, the afternoons spent getting my nails buffed an polished are a distant dream. A few of the items on my list came as as a shock. I realized I have only bought 3 new dresses in the past six years. (This wasn't a conscious sacrifice, it's just too much work to go shopping and try stuff on now, plus it is so much more fun to buy Mia's dresses, they have ruffles and stuff). And purses...oh, how I loved to buy a new purse for no reason at all. Now when I start eyeing them Charlie rolls his eyes and ever so gently reminds me that I have a closet full of them in every shape, size, and color,that I never use (he's a killjoy but he is right...dang it.)
New bored housewife Amy now has new luxuries that are vital to existence. Yesterday I bought a case of chicken stock. I was giddy all the way home with my cache of chicken stock. I am rich in broth. And I am depressed that this makes me so happy. OH! and you should have seen me on the verge of joyful tears when I found that Charlie had bought my five cases of Diet Coke. I think I need a small vacation from being so responsible. Perhaps a quick jaunt to my old neighborhood for a vanilla steamer and a crepe with Jilaine will restore my sense of self. Call me, Jilaine and we'll set it up.