I have two addictions. Two that I will cop to anyway. I'd rather not admit publicly to my eyebrow maintenance addiction. No. I don't go to get them done. I'm a DIY girl. So, I dig out nearly invisible hairs with my Tweezermans. Sometimes drawing blood because I should be wearing my reading glasses to perform such a skilled operation. Although I never do. Ok, so I just confessed to that unspoken third addiction. Anyway, the other two are thrift store shopping and chapstick. Both of which are hard to feed in Morocco.
Now, of course, we're back in the states. But, after 2 months we still don't have our shipment from Morocco. So, the kids still don't have their bikes or the remainder of their clothes, which probably don't even fit anymore at this point. Since we've already spent megabucks on a new car, a washer and dryer, kitchen table, a computer, an an huge assortment of other new things like underwear, it's time to bargain shop and hit the thrift store. Yeeeeeeeeeeeesssssssss!
I score big time. A bike with a bald tire, but with great bones for Ember. Then a whole armful of clothes with something for each of the kids. And since they're all in school I can shop in peace without anyone nagging they're hungry or hiding in the clothes racks and jumping out in front of unsuspecting shoppers carrying styrofoam cups full of free, extra-crappy, extremely hot Goodwill coffee. I use the term goodwill lightly. Because of this kid-less anomaly, I actually have time to look in the women's section. Then, I see it. It's like it was totally made for me. I must have it. Cause I'm sure there's lots of people who wonder whether my really small chest is really real or not. It is. Although, I think I might feel more than a bit hypocritical wearing this super cool shirt with a push up bra. Or maybe that's just demi-guilt. Shhhhh...let this be my secret shame, ok?
After a day marathon errand running I saved up for all summer, I ended up at Whole Foods. And somewhere between the spinach and the feta, my lips start to feel dry. Actually, I always tell myself they are so I feel justified in scoring my next hit off the tube of chapstick. And just so you know, I'm using chapstick in that generic kleenex kind of way here. Cause god knows Chapstick is actually the shittiest brand of chapstick because it just sits on top your mouth like those wax candy lips. Not to mention the smell of it, which is akin to the pungent odor of the mothball, albeit, the more bashful cousin. When I remember this is the mecca of yummy chapsticks.
Excited, I bee line to the cosmetics aisle. Before I moved to Africa, I did what any addict does. I hoarded enough of my drug to make it through the duration if I rationed properly. So I stocked up on plenty of Dr. Bronner's orange ginger scented lube, in the brown tube. I wore every one of them down to the nub and then gingerly dipped my pinky fingernail in to scoop the last of it out. But wait. I don't see it in the vast array of balms. There is no Dr. Bronner's! Whaaaaaaaattttt? Are you kidding me? After I stop scouring the shelves because I'm sure I just missed it, I realized I didn't. So I settle for the the one that sounds most similar to my beloved Dr. Bronner's. Hugo's vanilla and sweet orange.
Sweet jesus! Sweet orange, my ass! Which is also what it smells like. And it tastes like castor oil. And guess what the first ingredient is? Yup, castor oil. Maybe I'll put it in the medicine cabinet for my chronically constipated child who maybe I can coax to try a swipe of Hugo instead of an enema. Although, I bet the enema would actually win.
So, what's the moral of the story? If you don't have it, fake it. But don't be a hypocrite or an asshole by pretending to be something you're not. Especially without a good lube.