I'm sure Ms. M@ry K@y would boot my ass right on out of the Pink Mafia for saying such things, but a girl has got to make a living.

When I turned 13, my Mom set up an appointment with her M@ry K@y "Lady" (known as "Independent Consultants" now) to have a facial and learn how to take care of my skin. A couple friends came over. My Mom bought some stuff for me. It was sort-of fun. Mostly I just remember that all the M@ry K@y stuff looked old fashioned and boring, and that I could care less about it. The products molded in the back of my vanity while I used flashy advertized items like Oxy10 and Noxema which sort-of worked.

Flash forward sixteen years later and I am in Tacoma and know nobody outside of family. A woman younger than myself offers to give me a M@ry K@y facial and I accept, figuring it can't hurt and I might get a chance to chat face-to-face with someone outside of my husband or in-laws. Lets call her Carrie.

Carrie turns out to be great. She is funny and interesting. She doesn't know hardly anyone in Washington either. She only moved here a year ago with her military husband, and she is pregnant with their second child. She loves dogs and isn't even put off by The Jeffrey. All around high scores.

The weirdest part of the visit? I LOVE the M@ry K@y stuff! Who knew?!

M@ry K@y must have done something right in the last several years, or my skin has actually started aging and needs some love. I bought everything. Cleanser, moisturizer, microdermabrasion kit, satin hands, satin lips, miracle day, and miracle night solution. And I got free (well, free-ish) gifts to go with all my stuff. I had no idea I was such a product whore.

After my spending binge, Carrie and I continued to talk on the phone and e-mail and I discovered that she had been working toward earning her M@ry K@y car. Not a pink Caddy, but something she could really use. In order to do so, she needed to recruit a few more M@ry K@y Commandos to the front lines as well as sell, sell, sell. I referred folks where I could and on the last possible day, finally gave up, closed my eyes, and signed.

I am a M@ry K@y Independent Consultant, Dammit!

Since signing up, I've developed a family heavy customer base of three people. The best part by FAR has been the motivational sales meeting I was invited to. Description to come. Sadly, no pictures were taken. I'll try to sneak some in at a future event. It was far, far worse than you can imagine. I wish I had been watching with a few good friends behind a one way mirror. There was singing, and dancing. Poetry was read. Plastic flowers were handed out. Tears were shed. This discription can't really do it justice.

The real question is, can I survive the humiliation of wearing a skirt, pumps and pantyhose (actual required dress code) and the embarrasment of whispering, "I sell M@ry K@y" to random women, all for a few extra bucks in my pocket from time to time? Since I really do love the product, I feel like I should put the maximum emphasis on that and forget the rest.

So, anyway, if you want some Mary Kay, let me know via email at ensie1@gmail.com. I'll hook you up with a great discount. I ship anywhere in the US.

No lie, the stuff rocks. Pink crazies or no.

Posted by: Ensie at 07:20 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
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