A Trophy Wife Night

A friend invited me to an Arbonne spa party at her house Friday night. Although I was warned in advance it would be a product party pyramid-scheme, I was interested in tips to help a Trophy-Wife-In-Need-Of-Much-Training, especially since an effective eye wrinkle cream remains elusive to me. With Wonder Mom and my friend there, the night was full of promise.

I arrived more than fashionably late and was greeted at the door by the smiling Professional, who was not my friend. Immediately, I knew I was dealing with an expert in the art of selling. She politely introduced herself, took my coat, didn't allow me to ask too many questions and told me I needed to get a "mask" on my face.

She whisked me toward the bathroom. My friend came out of the adjacent living room to greet me. After exchanging hugs, she encouraged me to say hi to the others in the living room. When I peeked in, the room was covered with ghostly white creamed faces with feet in plastic tubs of water. I didn't know anyone. I realized I was going to be conducting an awkward ritual of personal hygiene in front of strangers until...

Wonder Mom yelled to me from the back of the room. I almost recognized her behind the mask. She complimented my hair and asked what I did differently with it.

"I brushed it," I replied.

A few giggles passed among strangers. After The Professional saw that I had had my fun, she took me into the bathroom and showed me how to put on my mask.

The Professional had a plan for me. Once I was done, she escorted me from the bathroom to a seat in the corner. I sat next to an acquaintance, who is the prettier version of Jennifer Grey from the movie Dirty Dancing, because "Nobody puts Baby in the corner."

To minimize the odor emanating from my stinky Hobbit feet, I quickly submerged my toes in the plastic tub of warm water, which had hot rocks at the bottom. I felt like an actor in Japanese Noh theater as The Professional directed the room, knowing everyone's name, sharing laughs like an old friend and telling us what's good for us.

Then, The Professional disappeared. Entering center stage was The Novice.

Using laminated index cards, the Novice stood in front of the room and began the product presentation. Within 60 seconds, she was struggling to give the presentation -- with her index cards. I resigned that I would politely keep my mouth shut and wait patiently for it all to be over soon until...

she brought out the candy. Anyone that answered or asked questions about the products would get a piece of chocolate. Of course, the one with the most chocolate wins a prize.

I always win when it comes to chocolate.

Then the Novice asked her first question: "How long does it take for something to penetrate the skin?"

As some of the more polite people in the audience raised their hands, I blurted out, "Well, that depends."

Stunned, the Novice stared at me. Behind her white mask, Wonder Mom gave a vulpine smile.

"Well, what do you mean, it depends?," the Novice stammered.

"It depends on what type of skin, skin permeability, the age of it, texture of skin, and what type of product or medicine," I rambled on. The Novice froze. Eyes widened behind the masks and the room became quiet. To break up the tension, I replied, "I'm a geek. There's a reason they put me in the corner!"

A few laughs transpired, but the Novice knew she needed to hold her ground. She gave me a piece of candy to shut me up.

"26 seconds is all it takes," the Novice replied.

Wonder Mom chimed in, "She's a nurse so she knows stuff."

The Professional, who reappeared from the back, said, "Well, it's great that you are here to share this with us."

Yeah, right.

Others started asking questions. The Novice tried to defer to The Professional, who seemed to disappear every few moments and throw the questions back hardball style at her. It was like the middle school teacher who wants to embarrass the unprepared student. Struggling, The Novice used an audience member, who had used the products, for anecdotal support. After her story was over, I only had a few moments to get some more questions in to win the prize.

"So how are these eye cream ingredients better than what's in retinol-containing products?," I asked.

"Well, that stuff is just bad!" the Novice responded.

One of my personality defects is I have a hard time staying quiet and polite when mythology is being dispensed in way that can triumph over fact. People with this personality defect usually get killed early on in a revolt.

The Professional smartly stepped in before I could open my mouth and said, "Well, our products are made from plants cells. Retinol comes from an animal cell.
And since our products are vegan, they are natural...."

and implied that they are better for you. However, it's a little known fact that most of the world's poisons come from plants and not animals.

The Novice handed me a second piece of candy during the Professional's talk. I backed off. The Novice was quickly learning I could be tamed just like Pavlov's dogs until...

It was time to wipe off the mask and try some products. A variety of creams were sampled. The Novice sprayed and accidentally blinded a few with another product. Then, we tried the much-anticipated eye wrinkle cream.

At first, I felt tingling around my eyes and was excited that something might actually be minimizing the bags of luggage traveling under my eyes. 60 seconds later, I tapped the prettier version of Jennifer Grey on the shoulder and asked, "Can I please borrow a mirror? My eyes are burning!"

The Novice must have heard. She dropped another piece of candy in my hand when no one was looking. No questions asked.

Not only were my eyes burning, but I failed to notice that most of the chocolate had melted in my hand.

When I got the mirror, I wasn't looking like a Trophy Wife. It looked like I had wiped my kids' butt and then used the same cloth to clean my face.

After wiping my face, a catalog was passed around. The grand cost for whole set was about $300. I was happy to learn the rock trick.

The Novice then began her talk about how we could save money buying the products. Of course, you could become a consultant, go to Vegas, sell this stuff to your friends and drive a white Mercedes to get the stuff cheap. It's a win-win for everyone!

"Can you imagine what Alpha Male would do if you drove up to the house in a white Mercedes?," Wonder Mom leaned over and quietly asked me.

He would probably wonder how much the kids went for on Ebay.

It was obvious many weren't going to buy anything. The room started clearing out. The Professional jumped in for a dramatic rescue. She discussed how some of the baby care products were curing her baby's eczema, when no other prescribed medications worked, after using tons of diaper cream and body wash every other night. She decided to up the ante by sharing how such creams also helped relieve the fever blisters around her mouth(aka, herpes). For about $40 to $50, your baby's eczema and herpes could be cured too.

The prettier version of Jennifer Grey, who saw my eyes burn, bought something. The Novice came over to count what was left of my candy. We all knew I had the most.

Wonder Mom was the only other person that noticed I didn't get my prize.