For the entirety of my childhood – up through and including my teenage years – I used Avon Skin So Soft Bath Oil. When I was a kid it was just what we had sitting by the tub, but by the time I was a teenager I actively sought it out: It had taken on an air of nostalgic simplicity and made me feel both elegant and a touch retro, even though I wasn’t sure exactly why.
And now I do.
If only it were possible to flounce from one's own face.
Remember my little skin issue? No, not the potentially-worm-related one (which is apparently something called "granuloma" that is only a big deal if you care about having feet that don't look like your grandfather's); the Trump-related one, a.k.a. the one that demonstrated that the state of my pores correlates precisely with the state of our country.
It's still happening (I was treating it before I left for Ohio, but a week of using hotel room soap because I forgot my own seems to have set me back). I had my dermatologist look at a little spot on my nose that was concerning me, and she had trouble understanding which spot she was looking at because - and I quote - "there are so many spots that it's hard to tell what's what."
Apologies for this image, but come on: it's amazing.
(Also you have to go read the article I found it in right now.)
Let's put aside the disturbingness (by which I mean amazingness)of that image up there for a second. We have to have a discussion about my face. WHAT. IS GOING. ON.
I only look like a human being in that photo because of this stuff.
I am very, very bad at hiding things from people. If I’m embarrassed, my face helpfully alerts everyone around me to that fact by turning a lovely shade I call “deep eggplant.” If I’m annoyed, you know I’m annoyed because I sound annoyed, even if I say that I'm not annoyed (sorry, Kendrick). And if I’m excited, I am the very worst person in the world at playing it cool; my cartwheels are much better than my poker face.
If I’m stressed or upset, though – as I have been these past couple of weeks – do you know what happens? My entire body falls apart. My face somehow becomes simultaneously oilier and drier (whee!). I break out like a teenager. My hands (or, more precisely, my cuticles) require daily vigilance so as not to frighten casual bystanders. All this falling-apart, of course, makes me feel even worse, when I was already feeling bad to begin with.
When it comes to makeup, I'm not the most experimental person on the planet. I have my moments - like, say, when a babysitter arrives early and I can actually sift through my makeup bag as opposed to grab at things on autopilot. And sure, once in awhile I'll break out a silver liquid eyeliner or some neon eyeshadow...but mostly (like most women), I've got my routine, and tend to order the same products over and over and over.
They are these:
Other products I use every single day (or at least every single day I put on makeup, which, as it turns out, is no longer every single day): brown eyebrow powder, a NARS eyeshadow palette, and mascara (if I don't have eyelash extensions at the moment).
