It was a jewelry party – think Pampered Chef or Tupperware, with more bling and higher price points. I had all I could do to escape without betraying the names of twenty close friends who’d just love to be contacted about hosting jewelry parties themselves.
If you get called, it wasn’t me.
The rep is passionate. Why wear one necklace when you can layer eight of them? So what if you have glasses and a big head and your father’s assertive ears and a linebacker neck, and you feel cluttered and overdone wearing even little post earrings? Go for big hoops, and then add a headband and matching choker!
She teaches us to Adorn Our Palette, the upper chest area, to distract attention from the less attractive parts of ourselves. Mind you, this isn’t about boobs. We are all over 50; our boobs now qualify as less attractive parts.
They’re also no longer in the upper chest area.
She tells us that, with the right palette, we can still fascinate anyone.
True, that! I look at her eight necklaces and huge earrings and twelve bracelets and big glasses and wonder in amazement how she weathers electrical storms, given all that metal.
We play fun games, like “Look in your purse! What do you have in there that starts with the letter F?” One guest says, “I have a firearm. Do you need to see it?” The rep hurriedly says no, and awards her the prize. No-one argues.
The cupcake question is her big finish: Even the humble muffin can shine, given enough icing.
Me? I’m the high-altitude baking failure above. Ain’t no frosting gonna fix that or fool anybody.
Yet I take the “C is for Checkbook!” out of my purse and buy in. Where there is life, there is hope.