I had to know: Is it worth the orgasm?

I have a fear of QVC, and it's a little conspiracy theory-ish. Are you ready? There's a small part of me that believes the QVC spokespeople are all bots with little chips that send waves to your brain and that if you linger on the station for just a moment too long, they zap into your brain and convince you to buy shit you normally wouldn't.

Don't believe me? I have two words for you: Quacker Factory.

Over the years I have succumb to a few impulse purchases. There was the purple eyeshadow incident. A few IT cosmetics here and there (I love their waterproof under-eye concealer — handy because I snorkel constantly in Connecticut and still want to look perdy — but their light powder concealer makes me look like Data from Star Trek). Some Clarks shoes. A Total Home Gym after I'd been drinking...

Anyway. I've been patting myself on the back for a while now because even though I've watched Josie Maran peddle her pure argan oil products with orgasmic enthusiasm — puuure, argan oil, ooooooooo yeeesss — as she slathers herself with oily, reckless abandon, I have resisted buying them.

Take that, bots!

Alas, I have a confession. A few weeks ago I succumbed to Ms. Maran. I was flipping past QVC and I lingered too long on the segment for the 8-pack of Whipped Argan Oil Body Butter in assorted scents for $70. Mesmerized by all the promises of dewy, goddess-like skin and Maran's scintillating repetition of the word "juicy," I texted my friend and said "Should I?" and she wrote back "YOU WILL LOVE IT."

I hit the purchase button, and a week later it arrived (it's not missing one, I took one out).

Now I'm here to tell you, from the other side of I've Tried It-ville, about my experience so that I may help you, if you're vacillating and unsure, like I was, about this puuure, argan oil body butter. Is it worth it?

Yes and no.

No because...

... it's just a moisturizer. Really, it is.

It's substantial, but not goopy, and it smells kind of wonky, especially the Lilac. As in, "Hi Grammie!" The Milk and Honey scent is okay. It's a sugar-frenzied smell that wavers somewhere between baked cookies and frosting on crack. I now understand why so many people prefer the Unscented. 

The body butter is light and whipped all right. So much so that big cavernous holes exist in the tub. And it doesn't instantly absorb unless, maybe, you apply a pea-sized amount, which seems to go against Maran's mantra of slather, baby, slather until you shine like the top of the Chrysler Building!

I'm disappointed to find that I don't feel decadent and amazing putting it on, like Josie promised — Ooooh, gawd, yeeesss it's sooooo luxurious — instead I just feel like I'm putting on moisturizer. Maybe I didn't drink enough first. Maybe you have to be halfway to shit-hammered to enjoy spending 30 minutes rubbing Juicy Pear onto your skin. But I read the instructions, and there's no mention of vodka. They just say to put it on when your skin is dry — no shit, it really says that:

I've been using the body butter for a week and my skin doesn't glow, and it doesn't feel buttery soft. It just doesn't feel dry. The same results are easily attainable by Curel or Nivea, but I guess if you buy chemical laden creams you can't feel good about helping to sustain all the Moroccan women who hand peel the argan fruit and grind the nuts to tease out the puuure, argan oil.

There's always a trade off.

Price-wise, it was a decent buy, so I guess there's your yes to buy it. Seventy dollars for eight 4-ounce tubs is about $8.75 per tub, which is sort of / kind of / not really okay considering most commercial brands retail for upwards of $10. And Maran promises it has a shelf life of forever, so it looks like I'll be body buttering myself into my eighties — slathering in between my wrinkly folds, culling out my inner, yet senile, goddess.

I'll save the Lilac tub for then.