Having worked in corporate America for eighteen years now, I have a good idea how hard it is to earn a buck and harder still not to get ripped off by shoddy service and inferior products.
Also, I don’t trust full-time writers at beauty magazines because they are so far removed from us, their readers. They get free services and products gratis.
As for us peasants? Two hundred plus either sales tax or hefty tips for a few hours of looking decent before the heat, rain, or traffic weathers us.
For one good hair day, there’s no bank of professionals editorializing ‘the look’ of the moment. Instead, harmonic convergence occurs and lo – no frizz.
Or maybe, God don’t deceive my eyes, a blooming zit in the middle of an impossible to squeeze spot on the cheek is for once absent.
Wait a minute, the clouds part and the sun shines on what appears to be a dimply-free backside from butt to knees.
Hurry up! I need to get laid before the clock strikes twelve and my carriage turns into a pumpkin.
Then hair frizzes, zit surfaces, dimples appear (and on the arms), ten pounds suddenly pop up and a herpes sore breaks out on the corner of rapidly deflating lips.
Where are the professionals now?
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