11.11.02
Whore no more.
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I miss being a whore. A product whore, that is.

Long as I can remember, I've been enthralled with creams and glosses and mousses. Products that promise to make my skin glowy, my hair flowy, and my life filled with men who cook, clean, scratch my back and play with my hair.

It's not that I use lots of product; I buy lots. Or, uh, I did. That's the biggest drag of this no-workie thing. (Well, okay, one of the biggest.) No longer can I browse the counters at Neiman Marcus, seeking divine inspiration in the form of a powder puff. I haven't tried anything new in months. And you know what that means? Something almost too horrible to consider: Hundreds of products have been launched and already deemed useless — without any help from me.

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