I was up in the air as to whether to get the July Julep box. I skipped last month because the BB, sorry, DD Cream looked too dark for my skin, and I am militantly anti-Oompa-Loompa. Also, last month was skipped because the colors were meh. Nail polish is my thing now, it used to be purses, so I have a pretty extensive color selection. I have sworn not to buy any more purples, be they lilac, grape or aubergine, because I have a glut of purples in all forms. Duochromes, creams, glitters, and one jelly that I got before the purple ban was enacted (I don't know really whether I like jellies or not, they're fussy, but when you get them right, they're pretty cool.) My style profile is boho glam, and the colors were a seafoam green (which I like, but already have similar shades) and yellow, which I have a couple of. I hate yellow nail polish, though I love yellow as a color. It's always streaky and can look weird with my skin tone, but I do an occasional yellow accent nail.
TL:DR: I didn't get the June box. I'm not really a Nantucket-y kind of girl, but it was a cute concept.
My Maven selection email came last week, and I was feeling the same way, especially with dry body oil as your 'not nailpolish' product. The only thing that swayed me is that I am lacking in peach and bronze polishes, and I really wanted the Fireworks add-on to do a 4th of July manicure, and I could get it free with my Jules.
It came today, and I'm so psyched to do my 4th of July mani tonight after the kiddos are in bed and I'm done my errands for the weekend, including the monster grocery list for two different grocery stores, and Walmart, Target or Dollar General for cleaning supplies. I tried the dry oil right away because my legs are ashy something fierce, but 100+ degree heat makes you want to skip the lotion after showering. I liked it, it sunk in very quickly, wasn't greasy, and smelled nice, as promised by the promo materials.We'll see how lovely it is after my actual shower in which I shave my stubbly legs.
Note: So far as I can tell, my readership is me at this point, so I don't think it will matter whether I follow the FTC Guidelines for disclosure or not.
FTC CYA: I bought this myself.
Saturday, June 29, 2013
Thursday, June 27, 2013
Construction Time Again
(I love me some Depeche Mode!)
I went to see the Psychiatrist on tuesday afternoon, and he seemed to be appalled that I tried for two years to obtain relief from what he said was pretty severe depression, and the doctor was so unhelpful. The initial plan of attack is to ramp up to the CORRECT dose of Wellbutrin, with an adequate dose (4x what the previous MD had prescribed) of Xanax to combat the anxiety in the meantime. He was well spoken and listened. No thick accent, which I appreciate, because I get rather frustrated when I'm at a MD and can not understand what the doctor is saying about my treatment. This would be especially frustrating when it came to a mental health professional, because it is a nuanced treatment, not just 'here's a Z-pack for your sinus infection, get some rest.' He said that the Wellbutrin will probably not be enough, but it is at least a starting point. I go again next month to gauge my progress and adjust my meds.
I'm working from a couple different angles to tackle this depression. I'm reading about Mindfulness Based Cognitive Therapy, and tonight, for the first time, I'm going to be attending a support group sponsored by the DBSA (Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance). It's at a local church, which is a little weird for me, but I know that connecting with people will go a long way towards helping me feel less isolated. Who knows, I may meet some people to socialize with outside of the support group. I know I can't attend all meetings because of hubs' schedule, but I plan on making as many as I can.
I've decided to start making lists of goals I want to achieve on a daily basis, a glorified to do list. I think this will allow me to get out of my head and quit ruminating, and focus on specific tasks. Maybe I can finally get all of my books unpacked, fill my curio cabinet, and create the office space I'd like to have in the front room. It's bizarre, but yesterday, only my second day of being back on my medication, I actually followed through with getting my laundry done. Maybe I have hope because there's light at the tunnel.
This couldn't have come at a better time, because I found out yesterday that my Mom has been hospitalized. She's had bronchitis for the last month that isn't getting better. I talked to her last night and they've ruled out pnemonia, but they've found multiple lesions on her lungs. She's a long-time smoker, and has lost a significant amount of weight since February. The weight loss could be attributed to depression since I left, but she says that she's been eating a lot. If this turns out to be cancer, I would not be surprized, because I've had the thought in my head since I heard about the drastic weight loss. I've told her over and over to get herself to a doctor, but she's a hardhead.
I have a complicated relationship with my mother. I love her, but she is narcissistic, has a gambling problem, and was physically and emotionally abusive when I was a child. She had a hard time adjusting to being a parent of an adult. She has softened as she aged, but she is still manipulative, and self centered. She never admits to being wrong about anything, and when told that she is in the wrong, she reacts with anger. Nothing is ever her fault, and no one can ever have a harder life than she's led. She has had significant childhood trauma that she never got therapy for. She is quick to tell her kids that they need to be on medication because they're too nasty when they're fed up with her shit and call her on it, though. I don't want to go into specifics, because she's sick, and I feel bad for her right now.
I went to see the Psychiatrist on tuesday afternoon, and he seemed to be appalled that I tried for two years to obtain relief from what he said was pretty severe depression, and the doctor was so unhelpful. The initial plan of attack is to ramp up to the CORRECT dose of Wellbutrin, with an adequate dose (4x what the previous MD had prescribed) of Xanax to combat the anxiety in the meantime. He was well spoken and listened. No thick accent, which I appreciate, because I get rather frustrated when I'm at a MD and can not understand what the doctor is saying about my treatment. This would be especially frustrating when it came to a mental health professional, because it is a nuanced treatment, not just 'here's a Z-pack for your sinus infection, get some rest.' He said that the Wellbutrin will probably not be enough, but it is at least a starting point. I go again next month to gauge my progress and adjust my meds.
I'm working from a couple different angles to tackle this depression. I'm reading about Mindfulness Based Cognitive Therapy, and tonight, for the first time, I'm going to be attending a support group sponsored by the DBSA (Depression and Bipolar Support Alliance). It's at a local church, which is a little weird for me, but I know that connecting with people will go a long way towards helping me feel less isolated. Who knows, I may meet some people to socialize with outside of the support group. I know I can't attend all meetings because of hubs' schedule, but I plan on making as many as I can.
I've decided to start making lists of goals I want to achieve on a daily basis, a glorified to do list. I think this will allow me to get out of my head and quit ruminating, and focus on specific tasks. Maybe I can finally get all of my books unpacked, fill my curio cabinet, and create the office space I'd like to have in the front room. It's bizarre, but yesterday, only my second day of being back on my medication, I actually followed through with getting my laundry done. Maybe I have hope because there's light at the tunnel.
This couldn't have come at a better time, because I found out yesterday that my Mom has been hospitalized. She's had bronchitis for the last month that isn't getting better. I talked to her last night and they've ruled out pnemonia, but they've found multiple lesions on her lungs. She's a long-time smoker, and has lost a significant amount of weight since February. The weight loss could be attributed to depression since I left, but she says that she's been eating a lot. If this turns out to be cancer, I would not be surprized, because I've had the thought in my head since I heard about the drastic weight loss. I've told her over and over to get herself to a doctor, but she's a hardhead.
I have a complicated relationship with my mother. I love her, but she is narcissistic, has a gambling problem, and was physically and emotionally abusive when I was a child. She had a hard time adjusting to being a parent of an adult. She has softened as she aged, but she is still manipulative, and self centered. She never admits to being wrong about anything, and when told that she is in the wrong, she reacts with anger. Nothing is ever her fault, and no one can ever have a harder life than she's led. She has had significant childhood trauma that she never got therapy for. She is quick to tell her kids that they need to be on medication because they're too nasty when they're fed up with her shit and call her on it, though. I don't want to go into specifics, because she's sick, and I feel bad for her right now.
Friday, June 21, 2013
30 minutes of Peace
I have Barney and Friends on the living room television to placate my youngest daughter, even though it may be one of the worst things to happen to children's television. The older daughter is holed up in the playroom with Lady and the Tramp, so she's good for a while. I'm going to hop in the shower in a second, but first, a quick post.
I am seeing a psychiatrist for the first time since 2006 next week. I am sick of this funk I'm in. It has been three years since I've been happy, and I'm just getting worse at this point. I'm over it, and I want to see how things will pan out if I can get onto the recommended dosage of Wellbutrin. I was at half dosage before I moved here, and although I wasn't really great, the stomach pain and vomiting had ceased and that is always a relief. I tried to make an appointment with my PCP last November when things were getting very bad, but before I knew that Texas was really happenning, and she couldn't get me in until February. She called in a script to hold me over at the 150mg dosage for 90 days to hold me until the appointment. I got a call the week before the appointment, and it was cancelled. Of course, I couldn't be rescheduled before the move, so I had to go off Wellbutrin without doctor's supervision, because she refused to write another RX without my coming in. It really made me mad...I had followed the protocols, and she failed to provide the care I needed.
I'm not an SSRI fan. I've tried Lexapro, which was okay but not optimal, and Zoloft, which when it alleviated the depression made me a hungry zombie without feelings. The Wellbutrin felt like it was the one, but I needed the correct dosage. As of now, my stomach pain and vomiting is back in full force, and its been a week since I've been able to hold down a decent meal. This is the worst part of the depression, because it makes me feel like a bulemic. I get so hungry, and when I eat, it feels like I'm binging, even if its a normal sized meal. Then the pain starts a few minutes after eating, and intensifies until the stomach is emptied. Nothing helps. It's out of my control. I still feel bad. I feel wasteful, I feel hungry. This part of the depression makes me miserable physically, on top of the angst I'm dealing with emotionally.
I've found a support group for depression that I think I'm going to start attending when I can. It's free, and it gives me a chance not only to find an outlet for all this ugliness in my brain, but to connect with people who understand what it's like to live with this. I'm hoping I may find a kindred spirit, maybe start a friendship. I need to meet people and socialize to beat away this isolation, but I honestly don't know how to do this outside of a work or school setting. There's a lot going on next week. I'm hoping it will lead to positive change. I'm thinking of taking some online classes in fall to finish my degree, I registered with the local community college yesterday, and halfway filled out the FAFSA. If I could just get the Pell Grant, I'd be good. I have to find my 2012 taxes, which were done just before the move, and with the room of boxes (paperwork, books, and curio cabinet stuff, not essential to daily life, but still nnecessary) still there, I know I have a day of organizing and sorting before I can find them. I want to get my office nook set up to have a place to write. If only I could find some motivation in all this dank blackness.
I am seeing a psychiatrist for the first time since 2006 next week. I am sick of this funk I'm in. It has been three years since I've been happy, and I'm just getting worse at this point. I'm over it, and I want to see how things will pan out if I can get onto the recommended dosage of Wellbutrin. I was at half dosage before I moved here, and although I wasn't really great, the stomach pain and vomiting had ceased and that is always a relief. I tried to make an appointment with my PCP last November when things were getting very bad, but before I knew that Texas was really happenning, and she couldn't get me in until February. She called in a script to hold me over at the 150mg dosage for 90 days to hold me until the appointment. I got a call the week before the appointment, and it was cancelled. Of course, I couldn't be rescheduled before the move, so I had to go off Wellbutrin without doctor's supervision, because she refused to write another RX without my coming in. It really made me mad...I had followed the protocols, and she failed to provide the care I needed.
I'm not an SSRI fan. I've tried Lexapro, which was okay but not optimal, and Zoloft, which when it alleviated the depression made me a hungry zombie without feelings. The Wellbutrin felt like it was the one, but I needed the correct dosage. As of now, my stomach pain and vomiting is back in full force, and its been a week since I've been able to hold down a decent meal. This is the worst part of the depression, because it makes me feel like a bulemic. I get so hungry, and when I eat, it feels like I'm binging, even if its a normal sized meal. Then the pain starts a few minutes after eating, and intensifies until the stomach is emptied. Nothing helps. It's out of my control. I still feel bad. I feel wasteful, I feel hungry. This part of the depression makes me miserable physically, on top of the angst I'm dealing with emotionally.
I've found a support group for depression that I think I'm going to start attending when I can. It's free, and it gives me a chance not only to find an outlet for all this ugliness in my brain, but to connect with people who understand what it's like to live with this. I'm hoping I may find a kindred spirit, maybe start a friendship. I need to meet people and socialize to beat away this isolation, but I honestly don't know how to do this outside of a work or school setting. There's a lot going on next week. I'm hoping it will lead to positive change. I'm thinking of taking some online classes in fall to finish my degree, I registered with the local community college yesterday, and halfway filled out the FAFSA. If I could just get the Pell Grant, I'd be good. I have to find my 2012 taxes, which were done just before the move, and with the room of boxes (paperwork, books, and curio cabinet stuff, not essential to daily life, but still nnecessary) still there, I know I have a day of organizing and sorting before I can find them. I want to get my office nook set up to have a place to write. If only I could find some motivation in all this dank blackness.
Sunday, June 2, 2013
Isolation
As can probably be surmized by my post on my terrible face, I'm in a dark place right now, hence the lack of posts lately. I feel like I should probably get this out somewhere, because I don't want to burden my husband and make him feel bad for this move. My brain knows that this move was an amazing chance at starting life again in a place where we weren't doomed to fail. My emotions aren't cooperating. I've been walking around in a fog without motivation or any semblance of joy. I have no patience, and tend to zone out a lot and think of either everything that's worrying me, or absolutely nothing at all. I cry a lot when I'm by myself. I can't sleep unless I take a sleeping pill. I'm mopey because I'm going to miss a big family reunion in a few weeks, and I feel like being surrounded by people who care about me could do me a lot of good. I'm trying to make friends here, but all I've got is Craigslist, and that's just a terrible crapshoot. People clearly don't understand the parameters set forth by the "strictly platonic" moniker, and I'm not looking for a FWB, dammit. I just want a friend. I don't know anyone here besides my family, and my neighbors all speak spanish. I share a car with a husband who is working 60 hour weeks, and have no one to rely on to keep an eye on my kids, so my lofty dreams of joining a gym or a Zumba class are unattainable. Flying myself and the kids back home for a week will cost me $1200 in airfare alone, and I'd do best to get a hotel room and rent a car, because my family doesn't have a lot of spare room for us to sleep in, and spending a week at my inlaws sounds about as appealing as having hot pokers put through my eyes. I lived in the house next door to them for two and a half years, and they didn't understand the concept of boundaries. I don't need to be spending gobs of time with them anytime in the near future. Needless to say, that even though we are comfortable living on one income, $1200+ is an expense that needs to be saved for. I hope I can get it together and fly home for Thanksgiving. That would be great, honestly. They give the kids in this school district a week off for Thanksgiving, instead of just a four day weekend, so it would give me plenty of time to see my family over a weeklong stay.
And now, for something completely different!
My breakouts are being beaten back by a generic Proactiv kit, which I've been using religiously for two weeks. The AM and PM chemical burn is satisfying pain that tells me that my face may look normal again in a month's time. The deep, painful cysts are starting to surface and rupture, so it doesn't hurt me to move my mouth anymore. Out of the three clustered on the side of my mouth, two have ruptured, and one is getting close. The pores are shrinking on my nose and under my eyes. The gruesome imitation of a bindi smack dab between my eyebrows is receeding. I still need makeup to look like a human instead of a monster with a lumpy face, but it's getting there. My kids aren't asking about the "boo-boos" on my face on a daily basis anymore, and for that, at least, I'm grateful.
I went out on a limb since I am getting some color to me, and am no longer so white I'm blue, and picked up the Garnier BB cream for combo/oily skin. I used it on Friday, when we were running errands, and was pretty amazed that it looked as good as it did when I got home after sweating so much in the 90 degree heat. It looked essentially like I had just put it on, and didn't do that gross thing that every other makeup does on me when it's hot out...it didn't curdle and gather in the crooks and lines of my face due to the oil given off from my face from the heat. So far, this actually seems to be better than any foundation I've tried, because every single foundation I've tried does that nasty curdle trick due to the crazy oily conditions of my face. So, yeah, thumbs up Garnier!
I had the fanciest strip mall pedicure EVER on Friday evening. I was scrubbed with two different exfoliators, massaged with lotions, creams, oranges (wait, what?), and hot stones. There was also a paraffin wax treatment for my feet, which I did not realize came with the service. My super scary hobbit feet are now relatively human looking. Super fancy, and I ended up paying about the same as I usually did when I went to the lame Korean places with four nail stations and two pedicure chairs that proliferate in Baltimore County. This place was crazy inside. The front holds about 15 nail stations, and the back has pedicure chairs lined up on either side of the wall, approximately 20 total. The whole place was packed. Not a single seat open. I don't understand how I happened into the place at the perfect time and was put directly in a chair for a foot soak. It was a like a finely tuned pedicure giving machine there. The girl who did my feet also did my manicure while the paraffin was doing it's job on my feet, as well as offerring me my choice of complimentary beverage. Sadly, a fire ant came and bit me while I was outside not too long ago, and my freshly pedicured left foot is all red and swollen. I picked the Orly color Berry Blast, which is a sheer hot pinkish color, and it's totally clashing with the swollen red thing I've got going on now.
My hair is in full revolt. The tragic pixie (as opposed to the lovely pixies I had done in MD) that I had cut when I first got to TX three months ago is growing out. The back is pretty close to how it used to be when I wore my hair in an asymetrical bob, but the front just seems so damned short. I could deal with bangs, but the woman who cut my hair three months ago did something weird to the wispy pieces that are supposed to sit in front of the ears, and they're tragically short, and want to do nothing more that stick straight out from the side of my head. Too short to tuck behind my ears, and too short to be forced into place with bobby pins. I'm getting the itch to find a decent hairstylist to just give me a decent pixie and stop this madness. I showed the last one a picture of me with the exact haircut I wanted from two angles, but didn't get anything close to the sleek, simple Mia Farrow-esque do I loved, instead ending up with a pouffy mess on top of my head and the back of my head shaved so close you could see skin through the milimeter or so of hair left. I'm justifiably scared of the results of trying to find a new hairdresser. Instead, I'm just repeating my mantra of "ponytail, ponytail, ponytail" and hoping the next two months fly by, so I can have a reasonable facsimile of a short bob with long bangs, and getting a trim to even it out won't give me heart palpitations. I walk around most days with a bandanna tied around my head to cover my shame.
And now, for something completely different!
My breakouts are being beaten back by a generic Proactiv kit, which I've been using religiously for two weeks. The AM and PM chemical burn is satisfying pain that tells me that my face may look normal again in a month's time. The deep, painful cysts are starting to surface and rupture, so it doesn't hurt me to move my mouth anymore. Out of the three clustered on the side of my mouth, two have ruptured, and one is getting close. The pores are shrinking on my nose and under my eyes. The gruesome imitation of a bindi smack dab between my eyebrows is receeding. I still need makeup to look like a human instead of a monster with a lumpy face, but it's getting there. My kids aren't asking about the "boo-boos" on my face on a daily basis anymore, and for that, at least, I'm grateful.
I went out on a limb since I am getting some color to me, and am no longer so white I'm blue, and picked up the Garnier BB cream for combo/oily skin. I used it on Friday, when we were running errands, and was pretty amazed that it looked as good as it did when I got home after sweating so much in the 90 degree heat. It looked essentially like I had just put it on, and didn't do that gross thing that every other makeup does on me when it's hot out...it didn't curdle and gather in the crooks and lines of my face due to the oil given off from my face from the heat. So far, this actually seems to be better than any foundation I've tried, because every single foundation I've tried does that nasty curdle trick due to the crazy oily conditions of my face. So, yeah, thumbs up Garnier!
I had the fanciest strip mall pedicure EVER on Friday evening. I was scrubbed with two different exfoliators, massaged with lotions, creams, oranges (wait, what?), and hot stones. There was also a paraffin wax treatment for my feet, which I did not realize came with the service. My super scary hobbit feet are now relatively human looking. Super fancy, and I ended up paying about the same as I usually did when I went to the lame Korean places with four nail stations and two pedicure chairs that proliferate in Baltimore County. This place was crazy inside. The front holds about 15 nail stations, and the back has pedicure chairs lined up on either side of the wall, approximately 20 total. The whole place was packed. Not a single seat open. I don't understand how I happened into the place at the perfect time and was put directly in a chair for a foot soak. It was a like a finely tuned pedicure giving machine there. The girl who did my feet also did my manicure while the paraffin was doing it's job on my feet, as well as offerring me my choice of complimentary beverage. Sadly, a fire ant came and bit me while I was outside not too long ago, and my freshly pedicured left foot is all red and swollen. I picked the Orly color Berry Blast, which is a sheer hot pinkish color, and it's totally clashing with the swollen red thing I've got going on now.
My hair is in full revolt. The tragic pixie (as opposed to the lovely pixies I had done in MD) that I had cut when I first got to TX three months ago is growing out. The back is pretty close to how it used to be when I wore my hair in an asymetrical bob, but the front just seems so damned short. I could deal with bangs, but the woman who cut my hair three months ago did something weird to the wispy pieces that are supposed to sit in front of the ears, and they're tragically short, and want to do nothing more that stick straight out from the side of my head. Too short to tuck behind my ears, and too short to be forced into place with bobby pins. I'm getting the itch to find a decent hairstylist to just give me a decent pixie and stop this madness. I showed the last one a picture of me with the exact haircut I wanted from two angles, but didn't get anything close to the sleek, simple Mia Farrow-esque do I loved, instead ending up with a pouffy mess on top of my head and the back of my head shaved so close you could see skin through the milimeter or so of hair left. I'm justifiably scared of the results of trying to find a new hairdresser. Instead, I'm just repeating my mantra of "ponytail, ponytail, ponytail" and hoping the next two months fly by, so I can have a reasonable facsimile of a short bob with long bangs, and getting a trim to even it out won't give me heart palpitations. I walk around most days with a bandanna tied around my head to cover my shame.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Procrastination
I have a house to clean. Sure, it may be 9:26 at night and, yeah, I didn't even take a nap today. It could wait for tomorrow. But I won't let it. The problem with all this is that since I won't let it, I'll be up entirely too late. I definitely want to clean up the living room and kitchen, including vacuuming, and I really should put some laundry away that's been sitting on my dresser for a few days. While I'm thinking about laundry, I should probably do a load or two. That's okay though. I'm willing to accept less sleep for a nice, clean house.
Procrastination has been a fixture in my life. Today, instead of doing the above mentioned cleaning, I took something off of my to do list that has been there for about a year, which was catching up on the second to last Sookie Stackhouse novel, and for shits and giggles, I finished the last one too, about 10 minutes ago. I read pretty fast. But my glut of reading has definitely put me at a disadvantage when it comes to oh, doing laundry and the dishes in my sink and getting to bed at a reasonable hour.
And yet, here I am finding yet another way to procrastinate by writing a blog post. This madness has to end. I'm off to clean my house before I find something else to keep me from doing so.
Procrastination has been a fixture in my life. Today, instead of doing the above mentioned cleaning, I took something off of my to do list that has been there for about a year, which was catching up on the second to last Sookie Stackhouse novel, and for shits and giggles, I finished the last one too, about 10 minutes ago. I read pretty fast. But my glut of reading has definitely put me at a disadvantage when it comes to oh, doing laundry and the dishes in my sink and getting to bed at a reasonable hour.
And yet, here I am finding yet another way to procrastinate by writing a blog post. This madness has to end. I'm off to clean my house before I find something else to keep me from doing so.
Thursday, May 2, 2013
Hot Mess
Slathered in a True Blue Spa Mud Mask, hoping to dry out my face.
My skin is my enemy. When I was in 5th grade, it began to break out, and my mom freaked out. She would take sewing needles, sterilize them with a lighter, and dig the blackheads out my pores. Yeah, that left some obsessive compulsive tendencies in my psyche when it comes to breakouts. I would never repeat the 'ol needle trick, but I do have a blackhead extractor that I take to my face sometimes and end up frustrated, because my blackheads are so deep in my pores. Ugh, my pores. They're awful, huge, and constantly ooze oil. "They" tell girls with oily skin to be thankful because wrinkles will be kept at bay because of the oily skin, but I don't think "They" understand the frustration of a thirty-something that is sick to death of having teenage skin.
I hate to say it, but I am a picker (after many afternoons spent with my mother performing impromptu and painful blackhead extraction, it's kind of a given, it's ingrained in my head...get rid of it). I can't stand to have a pimple. It used to be when I worked full time, if I woke up, and saw a pimple, I would try my best to extract it, especially if it was the type that would be a nasty whitehead in a few hours time. Luckily, my acne scars are few.
I used to have oily skin, pimples, and the ever present giant pores and blackheads. Now, after having two kids, my skin has added cystic acne to the mix. This has been awful. It is hormonal, and once a month, I'm getting one or two nasty painful cysts around my jawline and mouth. They're so deep, there's nothing that really can be done except watch it turn red and inflamed, and hope that I don't accidentally touch the thing, or move my face in such a way to disturb it. It seems that as soon as they're finally resolving, my face is kicking into hormonal overdrive and starting the cystic cycle all over again, and I have new cysts to deal with on my face.
I don't have any desire to have children anytime soon, so I'm thinking about going to a dermatologist and talking about going on Accutane. I'm willing to suffer the dryness, peeling, etc, if I could just get rid of this stupid oily acne ridden face. Dryness would be a blessing, compared to the oil slick my face is two hours after cleansing it.
November 2010, meeting my indie uber-crush, MC Lars for the first time. Yeah, I'm wearing makeup, but my skin looked wonderful, comparing it to it's present state.
I think my worsening acne may be caused by my birth control pill, Junel. It was the only HBC pill that actually got my hormonal uterine rebellion under control. I'm terrified to stop taking it. I was unfortunate enough to be in that <1% of people who had an IUD failure. And it failed spectacularly. This happened at the end of 2010, when this picture was taken, though I didn't know it until right after Christmas. It was terrible, and required three hospital trips, surgery, an overnight stay, and two courses of methotrexate (which made me nauseous and made my hair fall out.) I don't trust IUDs. I have to find a new OBGYN since mine is 1500 miles away (which sucks, because I've been seeing him since I was 19), and I think I'm going to switch to Implanon, and hope against all hope that it will A) be an effective, long term BC, and B) help to halt this never ending cycle of suck that is my face.
Wednesday, May 1, 2013
Makeup Inequality
"I'm a Black Woman and I just want a damn BB Cream"
I read this article today, and in a funny bit of serendipity, I got a sample card of the Garnier BB cream. My initial thought when reading this was that girls on the opposite end of the spectrum (me) have the same issue. BB Creams and tinted moisturizers labeled as light take a freakishly orange cast on my skin, so I'm kind of SOL too, you know. I'm too white for mainstream makeup. But then on a whim, tried a swatch of the darkest of the BB creams on the card on my forearm. Labeled "Deep", the Garnier swatch looked nothing like a black woman's skin. Instead, it transformed my forearm into Snooki's.
Now I feel guilty for bitching about the light not being light enough, because there's a large section of the population that can't get anything approximating their skin color in a BB Cream. Apparently Garnier BB Cream is only for kind of pale white girls, regular white girls, and tanorexic white girls. Sad. With so much diversity in this country, you would think that this wouldn't be an issue.
On a less saddening subject, I did yoga for the first time today. I picked up a beginners yoga DVD forever ago, but never used it. I put the kids down for a nap (ha, like that really works) and popped in the DVD. I actually feel like it was a decent workout, you know once you take away the parts where I lost my balance, was unsteady in a pose, forgot to follow the breathing instructions, or had to pause the DVD to yell at my kids to stop playing closet peekaboo and actually take a nap. The relaxation segment was especially good, because you lay down flat on your back with your eyes closed, and it's still considered exercize.
I read this article today, and in a funny bit of serendipity, I got a sample card of the Garnier BB cream. My initial thought when reading this was that girls on the opposite end of the spectrum (me) have the same issue. BB Creams and tinted moisturizers labeled as light take a freakishly orange cast on my skin, so I'm kind of SOL too, you know. I'm too white for mainstream makeup. But then on a whim, tried a swatch of the darkest of the BB creams on the card on my forearm. Labeled "Deep", the Garnier swatch looked nothing like a black woman's skin. Instead, it transformed my forearm into Snooki's.
Tanorexic does not look right on me.
Now I feel guilty for bitching about the light not being light enough, because there's a large section of the population that can't get anything approximating their skin color in a BB Cream. Apparently Garnier BB Cream is only for kind of pale white girls, regular white girls, and tanorexic white girls. Sad. With so much diversity in this country, you would think that this wouldn't be an issue.
On a less saddening subject, I did yoga for the first time today. I picked up a beginners yoga DVD forever ago, but never used it. I put the kids down for a nap (ha, like that really works) and popped in the DVD. I actually feel like it was a decent workout, you know once you take away the parts where I lost my balance, was unsteady in a pose, forgot to follow the breathing instructions, or had to pause the DVD to yell at my kids to stop playing closet peekaboo and actually take a nap. The relaxation segment was especially good, because you lay down flat on your back with your eyes closed, and it's still considered exercize.
I made a fresh pico de gallo for dinner tonight. I picked up some burger patties from Kroger, which I'm going to grill, slap some pepper jack on those suckers, toast the buns, then load with the thawed Wholly Guacamole left over from fajitas the other week and pico. Did you know today is the beginning of National Burger Month? Neither did I until a few hours ago.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)