We move to a new town and the welcome wagon arrives with a basket of goodies. Among the bits and pieces, I find a coupon for a free Mary Kay visit. A person can always use a little pampering so I phone and make an appointment.
Ms Mary Kay arrives at my home a few days later. She’s short, bubbly, and tells me she’s well into her seventies. She sets up her kit on the island in my kitchen. I perch on one of the bar stools and she goes to work.
“I’m going to give you a mini-facial,” she says. I close my eyes and enjoy the pampering.
We chat about this and that as she finishes the facial and does a quick hand cleansing/massage. This visit is much more fun than I thought it would be and I’m feeling very relaxed.
“I’m in no rush. Let me do your make-up,” she says. “Then your husband can take you out to dinner.”
I don’t wear make-up. I’ve never worn make-up. I don’t like all that goop on my face, but how can I say no to this genial “grandma?” She’s being so nice to me.
Make-up done, she gives me a mirror. I’m shortsighted and don’t have my glasses on. I hold the mirror close to my face to examine her work and feel the tension mounting.
“Oh, my goodness. Look at all the wrinkles.” I’m horrified.
Ms. Mary Kay grabs my hand and pulls it so that I’m holding the mirror at arm’s length. “That’s where people see you from,” she says.
And miraculously the wrinkles are gone. Gotta love the Mary Kay lady.