Beauty on a Budget

There's an article in one of the current "women's magazines" that extols the virtues of caring for one's skin, and suggests the proper products for day and night care. As a woman over forty (wow…I knew that was true, but as I type it out, it seems so much more real!) I am looking for every secret I can find. Well, at least all of the ones that don't involve surgery, injections of poison, and applications of chemicals that remove layers of skin and leave one looking like a burn victim for weeks at a time.

Most of the suggestions make sense: moisturize in the morning before applying makeup, use a minimum SPF 15, remove makeup at night, apply moisturizer again, and apply specialized treatments to the eyes and other parts of the face that may be showing signs of age (forehead, lips, and neck are prone to get especially wrinkly, as I have found when I peer into the mirror; the one in my bathroom can be pretty forgiving. It's the rearview mirror in the car that I find really horrifying. I glance into it every day to make sure that I am not going to back into anything, and then I nearly smash into the car behind me anyway, because I am so distracted by the craters I find between my brows, the "laugh lines" around my mouth, and the **gasp** sun damage I can see in spots around my whole face from those silly teen years when I slathered BABY OIL, yes, BABY OIL all over my body and then deep fried myself in the California sun at midday! Oh, if I could go back in time, I would yank that foolish child inside and put on some sunscreen! Well, I would also tell her to have better posture, work harder in school, not worry about boys so much, learn how to ballroom dance, and pay more attention in math class. But since we are not real close to inventing a time machine, I guess I am going to have to live with the sunspots, my inability to dance, and a checkbook that balances only when I open a new account.)

Armed with a newfound appreciation for the importance of skin care, I head to the store to stock up on beauty products. I am a little wary, since along with fine lines, spots, and some deeper regrets that no lotion can ever soothe, I am also burdened with sensitive skin. I have spent fortunes on an array of products in the past, only to end up looking monstrous because of swollen eyes and red, bumpy rashes. Even when purchasing products that are specifically labeled "hypo-allergenic" or sold under the guise of being for "sensitive skin," I will be the one person who is allergic to it. Therefore, if I find a brand that doesn't make me itchy & rashy, I tend to stick to it. I may have to pay a little more, but I will buy a name brand if I can tolerate its formula. I am wary of branching out because of my skin's rebellious nature. I realize though, that I need more than just the one moisturizer that I have been slathering on every morning for 15 years, and so off I go to the dreaded beauty aisle.

Cleansing products are the first order of business, since it is the hardest for me to manage. I will admit: I am a bad girl when it comes to face washing. I commit the cardinal sin of going to bed with my makeup on. Apparently by doing this, I am risking everything from clogged pores (not a big risk for me, since I don't wear foundation, but still) to eye infections, raccoon eyes (not an actual condition, just ugly to wake up with) and stained pillowcases. I am still traumatized from my last experience with makeup "wipes," which left me with swollen eyes and eczema. Ironically, because I had tried to be a good girl and remove my makeup every night, I ended up having to go without eye makeup for 2 weeks before I recovered from the allergic reaction. And this was from a manufacturer that markets their products as being "hypo-allergenic!" But, it is summertime, and I want to be able to wear waterproof mascara, which is notoriously hard to remove, without special products (all of which, in the past, have ended up turning my eyes into red swollen slits.) In addition, the price of these makeup removing solvents is staggering: 25 wipes=$6.99 and that’s with a coupon! One bottle of cleanser: $9.99, and then I still have to buy cotton balls (which always shred when applied to lashes stiffened with mascara, YUCK); or one jar of makeup removing cream: $12.99, YIKES! And then I still have the application & removal issue: cotton balls, tissue, etc. I know myself too well. I will never be able to afford to keep buying those wipes. The cleanser or cream will annoy me if I have to apply it every night and get cotton fluffies in my eyes, and really: if I haven't gotten in the habit of doing this fancy routine in the first 40 years of my life, why would I go to the trouble of doing it now? I need something quick, cheap and easy (and no smarty-pants comments of "that's how I like my men" thank you very much).

As I think about what would be gentle, thorough, and non-irritating (ok, here's where you can insert the comment about "that's how I like my men") it occurs to me exactly where to find the stuff to clean my face. I leave the beauty aisle and head for the baby aisle. Wipes are indeed the answer, just not the ones that are $6.99 for 25! I pick up a box of Pampers baby wipes, the ones for "extra sensitive skin" and they are on sale, $1.69 for 170. And, I can get refills for even less! In the same place I find the other item I will need: baby soap, for a gentle wash in the morning, $1.29. I always hate washing my face in the morning since shower gel burns my eyes, and dries out my face. Problem solved, for just under $3.00.

Now that I have saved so much on the face washing items, I can spend a little extra to get the moisturizer in the name brand that I really like. I get Oil of Olay in the unscented version, so as not to upset my "babied" skin, and with SPF 15, just like the article suggested. I know it’s silly to have a “thing” for Oil of Olay, but my ex-mother in law always used it, and she always seemed so pretty and smelled so good when she put it on. Granted, she was only 35 at the time(yep, 2nd wife of the ol’ ex-father in law, you guessed it), but I was 22 and needed to learn this stuff: I have stuck with the Oil of Olay ever since and because it doesn’t make me rashy, I wouldn’t dare switch now. Plus, I’m not too wrinkly yet, and neither is the ex-mom in law. Now is that coincidence, or Oil of Olay? I am not going to find out the hard way! The special moisturizer for eyes and lips could be a challenge for the wallet, but there's a trick here, too.

First the lips: there are actually special products in the beauty department just for the lips. One can spend anywhere from 99 cents to $10.00 on lip stuff. From Chapstick to special "Lip Renewal" creams, there's a whole line of products dedicated to the kisser. I didn't buy any. When I got home, I looked at my bedside and found that I had the perfect answer: Bag Balm. Although I am not up on "udder" problems, so to speak, I have treated hands, lips, and flu-reddened noses with Bag Balm for years, with great success. The 10 oz. can is a little more than most folks need, but for about $8.99 it is a steal. I tend to get the tiny .5 oz guy, and for $1.99, it is a beauty bargain.

The eyes actually required a little luck. But this was a good lesson in the value of beauty bartering. I wanted to try the Oil of Olay eye "treatment" since I love their moisturizer, and I was sure it would make my eyes smooth and wrinkle free for years to come. However, when I went to buy the stuff, I found that I would pretty much have to qualify for a second mortgage on my home in order to afford it. I was so disappointed. I was tempted to invest in the product anyway, but I just couldn't imagine the budgetary sacrifices I would have to make. Could I promise myself not to have lattes for a year? Maybe, but not likely. Would I eat at home more often? Well, probably, but at this price, it would have to be mac and cheese at home. Bummer. Would I swear not to add to my shoe collection for a whole season? Ha! What good would smooth, non-crinkly eyes do me if I was shlumping around in last year's strappy sandals? I was in a quandary. I mentioned my dilemma at work. A co-worker heard the name of eye cream I so coveted, and she interrupted me to tell me that she had bunches of it at home! Her mother in law bought it for her, and she felt so insulted to have "wrinkle cream" thrust upon her that she wouldn't use it! Granted, she was in her 20's and therefore could have claimed justifiable homicide in this case; but I was too excited to discover a stash of eye wrinkle cream to contemplate helping her commit murder. She offered to give me the eye cream for nothing. And I was tempted to take it. For nothing. However, I thought about having a little moral fiber (it's the only fiber I have; I am not much of a health nut, although now I am finding out that a healthy diet is good for the skin, too, so I may have to shop in the fruit and veggie aisle at the store too. Bummer). So, I mentioned that I happened to have a pretty good supply of hypo-allergenic makeup remover pads (remember, the ones that gave me puffy eczema eyes?) and it turned out that Miss 20's Eye Wrinkle Cream was a big fan of the make up pads. So, we bartered some beauty and both ended up happy. And her mother in law didn't have to die. Hard to say if that was really a benefit or not, but we'll say, just for the sake of argument, that the lady was a good person with really bad gift-giving skills. I hope so, since I am hoping for more wrinkle cream for Christmas.

The point of all this is that you never know where you might make a "beautiful" discovery. There are some items that are a must-have, like a favorite name-brand item. Those things are worth saving and sacrificing to afford. Some things, like cleansers, makeup removers, and lip balms, can all be substituted creatively and inexpensively. And the nicest discovery: friends can trade items that haven't worked out, so that no one wastes and everyone wins. (Unused, of course. It would be kinda gross to share someone else's used lipstick. Remember what your mom always said, "You don't know where that thing's been!" Well, in the case of lipstick, even though you DO know where it's been, it would still be gross. But sharing leftovers of cleanser, moisturizer, and other ill-advised or unwanted gifts, or purchases is not only nice, it's even a form of recycling, if you want to be all "Green" about it!)

So I think I have a pretty good skin care plan now: I can get clean and moist at bedtime, clean and moist in the morning, fill in the cracks and craters around the eyes, Bag Balm my lips so that they are totally kissable, and protect myself from any more of that awful sun damage. Now I just have to stop the aging effects that it turns out I am doing every day when I consume all the bad stuff it turns out is in my diet. Anyone know which part of the grocery store I should start searching for the fat-free, low carb, caffeine free, anti-aging diet foods?

Why I Hate Pantyhose

I had a bad underwear experience today. I know it seems a small thing, but at 6:00 this morning it was a pretty damn big deal.

These were supposed to be some really good underwear, according to the box. “Control top” the box said. Well, good, I thought...I needed some control that is for sure. Things are out of control around the underwear-wearing regions. Control is good. Sounds serious. It’s time for me to think seriously about the underwear region for a change. I have been far too lax for far too long about the whole area.

“Tummy tamer” it said, too. Awesome! My tummy is definitely not tame. It is some wild jiggly thing that “crunches” are not taking care of at all.

And this brand had the added “Thigh Shapers” built in...now granted, these made the underwear look a bit like something my grandma might have worn, but I tell you, I was on a mission this morning. No Mrs. Nice Guy about the cellulite and all that. Today was gonna be my day to look smooth and shapely and these underwear were my ticket to the promised land of beauty. Thigh Shapers, I tell you...squeezing bumps and bulges that I have tried to jog and “power walk” into submission for years. Well, I think I know how they get toothpaste into the tube, now. It isn’t for the squeamish.

So, after the jumping up and down and the pulling and tugging and the lifting and tucking to get all of me into these underwear, I was ready to admire myself. I knew that I had to look as good as the woman in the picture on the box. I mean, she looked damn good. She was tall and lean and blonde and stretched out on this beautiful couch in the sunshine, with a smile...she was so happy! I figured once I got these things on and they worked their magic, I would be ready to see the transformation.

Disappointment is really not a strong enough word. Maybe horror is too strong, but maybe not. I realize that it is not fair to expect that the weather (still cold and wintery, not warm and summery like on the box) would be improved by the underwear. Maybe there was just a little part of me that was hoping...but I accept that it was an unrealistic expectation. The fact that I was still short and brown-haired instead of tall and blonde? Ok, I can understand that I would have had to do more than buy underwear to alter that...and maybe it is time, at age 38 to accept that I am...not...going...to...get...any...taller. Ever.

But the vision that really devastated me, and for which I may have to seek legal action for the emotional trauma it caused, is the sight of my poor flab spilling out over the top, and escaping from the bottom, and, indeed, seeping over the sides of that freaking underwear. It popped out in places that it had formerly occupied, but in greater quantities than it had previously. So I still had a tummy, but it was flat in the middle and bulged out under my tits. I had thighs, but they were flat at the top and sagged down over my knees, like drooping saddle bags. My butt fat was bunched up and pooching up out of the back of the panties like I had a misplaced hunchback.

I looked at my short, bulging, brunette self, with the rain spattering against the windows of my bedroom, with the not-so-magical underwear, and I cried. I was not gonna get taller, thinner, blonder, the underwear was not gonna fit, and the sun was not gonna shine today. Not for me. Not today.

I know that is an awful story. Sometimes we have bad underwear days and it rains and we feel crappy. That was what happened to me. Did I wear that damn underwear all day? Well yes, I did. It was $9.99! Damn right I wore it. It crept up my ass and pinched my waist and was so uncomfortable it made me a miserable bitch all day. I hated it. I wore it though. I wasn’t gonna waste my $9.99.

I guess all I know is that I can live through a bad underwear day. I have had a lot worse days. Yeah, and a lot of better ones, too. Tomorrow will certainly be better. I’ll wear my nice soft “granny panties” that I have had forever and that are 100% cotton and bag and sag in all the same places I do. And that is one giant step toward having a good day.

I am not gonna make myself feel bad ever again about being so short and dumpy and bumpy and brown haired. That was my own damn fault. Next time I buy panties, they better be the kind that come in “bulk” at the Wal Mart for three bucks a 4-pack. They are less painful...all around.

The Great Depression

No, this isn’t a history lesson on the economics of the 1930’s, much as there has been reference to those times in the news lately. Although, now I think about it, it may more appropriate than I may have intended, to conjure those black and white newsreel images of drawn faces, ragged clothes, and the sad shuffling gait of those that wandered the streets during what is now called the Great Depression. Not that I want to discuss the current economic recession, but my own actual depression.

There are many reasons, and at the same time, none in particular, to be depressed right now. Like the economy itself, I have had a “perfect storm,” that perhaps at any other time I could have weathered with no repercussions. But with things in the state that they happened to be at this moment in my personal history, they have gathered to create this Great Depression. I have been fighting back pain for over a year, so the fact that it depressed me now, means that it was just one factor in the many that have contributed to this downturn in my emotional economy. But it is also true that my condition worsened recently, when two of my discs began to bulge in the lumbar area, creating a higher level of pain, and in turn, a deeper level of depression.

As a result of the pain issue, I haven’t been able to work for over a week. And the doctor expects that it will be at least another week before I will return to work. This created a snowball effect in the era of my Great Depression. As I have stayed home from work, I have worried: what is happening there without me? Are they discovering that they don’t need me? Don’t miss me? Are glad not to have me? Are they rifling through my desk? What are they finding? And with the cutbacks going on in the organization, will there be a job there for me when I return? Plus, as I have stayed at home, I have begun to get even more deeply entrenched in this Depression; I have watched too much TV, slept too late, eaten too much junk food. Then I have worried: am I getting fat? No one will want a fat, lazy, TV-addled boring old handicapped gimpy girl around anyway.

And that is the other problem.I have nothing else to do, aside from the TV and sleeping, but go to doctor appointments, where I have just become a cluster of symptoms. Or at least that is what I feel like. I have gone to clinics and hospitals, where I have moved so slowly, and with such pain, that most staff members immediately have offered me a wheelchair because they thought I couldn’t walk on my own. I have been asked things like “How do you like to lie down? Do you use a pillow between your knees?” and “How did you get here, do you have someone who drives you?” and when I have told the staff that I drove myself, they have had a look of horror, like “Gosh sakes, stay off the sidewalks til that handicapped woman gets home!” I hate it. It’s embarrassing. And when I have tried to get up out of chairs or off of exam tables, there is always a worried looking attendant or two, asking how they can best help me up. And then I have gone through the same thing at home, when the kids have been there to help me into/out of bed, onto/off of the couch, etc. Yes, I have been lucky that they are so caring, etc. But it is scary and depressing to have become this person: who is constantly being moved and lifted and shuffled around. It is depressing to have it hurt every time I take a step or sit or stand. I don’t feel young or pretty or sexy or desirable or fun. I feel like my stock has fallen through the floor, and the only people interested in me anymore are those who can profit from my presence: the doctors who might be able to treat me. And I am tired of their attention.

The Great Depression is scary: it came out of nowhere and I don’t know when it will end. It swooped around me one day like the wings of a vampire, sucking the life right out of me. And now I am just waiting…shuffling along, like the people in those 30’s newsreels, waiting for help. I don’t know where it will come from: whether it will be as simple as a friend’s company that will rally me. It might be when I just feel well enough to return to work and see that I have the same old crappy job that I did a week or two ago. Maybe it won’t be until I am completely well, and I don’t know when that might be. Weeks? Months? I don’t know.

Maybe that is what makes any Depression so frightening; we don’t know just what makes them happen, when they will go away, or when they might come back. They might be caused by pain, the loss of a loved one, or the loss of a job. It might happen for no good reason at all. And then one day, just as quickly as it descended, it will lift. Our market will rally, and so will we. So will I.