Okay, maybe not my stylist, but a particular skin consultant at Kiehl’s.
I’m a huge fan of Kiehl’s. I trust their brand, and I trust the people who work there. D and I are regulars at the San Jose store, so whenever we come in to stock up they always recognize us. Unless, of course, they’re new.
Earlier today, while we were getting our haul rung up by a new Kiehl’s guy who obviously had the hots for D, he stopped mid-transaction to ask if we were brother and sister. D wrapped his arm around me and answered, “No, she’s my fiancee.”
To this, the new guy looked me up and down with a curled upper lip, then quickly lit up and exclaimed, “OMG, you’re SO lucky!!”.
You’re damn right I’m lucky. Now, stop looking, ho!
Just kidding. I didn’t say or even think that. What I thought was how I need to avoid this guy from now on for fear that he might sabotage me and my skin. Vain and a little paranoid? I don’t care. My skin may be problematic, but it’s my life!