I’m in a chilly community center gym. The smell of burnt
coffee, thick in the air, barely covers the stale sweat still lingering from
basketball games gone by. Metal folding chairs groan with the tiniest of movements.
I stand up nervously, my palms slick with sweat.
Hi, my name is Amanda…and
I have a problem. I…I am addicted to beauty products.
Hello, Amanda! A chorus
of similarly inclined individuals greets me.
While this scenario is completely imaginary, my affection
for, and obsession with, beauty products is not. I often open my bathroom cabinets
looking for something specific only to have different bottles, tubes, and jars
come toppling out. Naturally, what I was searching for is nowhere to be found.
Right there I swear to myself that I am done. No more. I am through buying
these stupid things!
And then, one way or another, I find myself sidling up to
the makeup counter. Again. Greeting an eager saleswoman while ogling the latest shade of eye shadow.
Or meandering along the hair care aisle. My fingers lightly
tracing the brightly colored bottles. Fluorescent lights buzzing overhead, just
begging me to buy yet another bottle of thermal styling spray.
But I don’t cave. I don’t. I think about the drawers in my
bathroom, the stacks in the hall closet. Teaming with products I could
never hope to finish in this lifetime, no matter how much hairspray I use.
Lately, I’ve been feeling that way about kale. I buy a
bundle at the grocery store because it is cheap and delicious and filling. Yet,
no matter how much I eat, no matter how much I sauté with garlic or throw in
salads it is still there! Kale. Looming in my crisper drawer. The bunch never
getting any smaller.
