Pink Cadillac Fever

Somehow I allowed myself to be suckered into going to a quarterly Mary Kay convention with my cousin last night. I think I felt bad because I told her I would have a Mary Kay party when she first started selling it, but I didn't, and because I turned down all her other invitations, and because she's pregnant (I never like to disappoint pregnant women, I guess). Also, I was desperate to get out of the house.

The good news is that I got my makeup done for free, and I actually looked pretty good (of course, then I wanted to buy the makeup, which I totally can't afford at this point, which is irritating). The bad news is that I was then subjected to a little Mary Kay awards show. Two hours of women in various combinations of black, pink, and red suits trooping across the stage, each stating her name and unit leader. It was like the army, only scarier because of the continual clapping, giggling, and trite music selections (volume lowered for speeches and raised for the marches, of course). I felt like standing up and yelling "Girl Power" but was afraid death by mascara brush would prove none too comfortable. Seriously, it's like a cult. And, like any other cult, they really want you to join.

Although the idea of selling makeup for a living while wearing a pink suit in order to earn a pink car is anathema to me, I was forced to consider it momentarily when presented with the following information. Only 3% of the millionaires in this country are women, and of that 3%, 97% are involved with Mary Kay. Shocking isn't it! To think that practically the only chance one has to earn millions as a women is to sell makeup. I think I'll make a statement for the liberation of women everywhere and earn my million without wearing a drop of pink, or celebrating sisterhood in any Nazi-type gathering. I might, however, stock up on some Mary Kay makeup as soon as Justin and I are out of our financial hole...