Cosmetic Porn

I am a mess, I would like to be able to say that I am more often a "hot mess' but that would be an untruth. There are times that I am just a disaster area, much like Pig Pen on Peanuts, I always mean well but I usually enter a room create a cloud of physical chaos and as fast as I appear, I am gone.

As a youth(I cannot lie, still to this day), my space is cluttered with piles of my belongings. I can not for the life of me organize or be into cleaning, no matter how I try. I did not inherit the Italian mama on the floor using her own nails to scrape grime off the kitchen floor gene. I am a teacher who is unlike most teachers in the way that I do not always know where my markers are or that there are some missing. Fear not, I do notice if there are kids missing and I have not ever had a major catastrophe due to my clutter. I often utter the saying, "I wanna live life, not clean it".

The opposing part of my personality hates the fact that I cannot make a room look immaculate, that I always have one sock missing, that I will never like cleaning, that I do misplace things and that more then once I have left the house with the remote in my purse and have used a spatulla in public to eat my yogurt when I had no clean spoons. Confession, I just had no spoons, I think I had thrown them out with the Tupperware that I should have saved from lunch but did not.

The TV show Hoarders gives me mixed emotions. It makes me fearful that I could be one and also makes me want to throw everything out while making me think, "Hell, I am not THAT bad, am I?"

I will be approaching my point soon, fear not. Although I lean toward disorganization, there are certain things that I am insanely particular about. Since I was a teen, and I shoplifted my first lipstick I reveled in the perfect form of the slope that is to ever so lightly spread bright colors on your lips. How perfect the beads of moisture look on the lipstick sides. Palettes of eye colors so neat and well packed in their tins. A pattern particular to each brand gently pressed onto the top so gloriously I hate to disturb it. Eyeliner tips always sharpened like tools of tribal warfare lined up just so. It is crazy, in the midst of clothing chaos my makeup has always been displayed as if in the Egypt room at the MET. The creams and liquids, so level I could skate atop of them. I am sure that my cosmetic porn has gotten you all hot and heavy. I know that there may be some deep rooted reason for my makeup psychosis because after all, makeup always fits no matter what you ate last night. Still, it amazes me.

The other day I came into our bedroom, and was convinced that there had been a home invasion and we were ransacked. My Dan suffers from the same clutter virus I have except I think he piles his clothes so he can always be surrounded by his good fashion. I looked around at both his piles, my piles, then all my open drawers and thought "Blasted, we have been had!". Then my eyes gazed over to my makeup display and all my shadows were in a row, my lipsticks and glosses in color order and my liner spears sharpened as always. I sighed with relief. We had not been robbed, and I left every piece of clothing where it lay.

Maybe I have always known, maybe inside each of us have always known what it is we want and where we want to be. Look around at your own strange habits and what they focus on. They are telling. Now, where is that channel changer?