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Friday, February 8, 2013

Ladies: Embrace Your Face

Character flaws. Along with our character virtues and like bellybuttons, we've all got 'em. And true confession time? I have a deadly sin problem, and it's name is pride. Okay, well, pride is one I've really perfected, anyway. You know how I know I'm a little vain? I'm writing this to you while wearing a Gladys Kravitz-like mud mask on my face.

I have to apply this mask when the kids are at school because my appearance frightens them while I'm in it. I assure you, I am the sexy. Surely Hubs finds this my most come-hither look. Why bother with the trouble of this facial treatment? Because I'm going to not be middle aged if I do, you see. Were you aware among my many powers is the ability to stop the march of time? And it seems like I'm not the only girl under that particular delusion, either.

Oh, of course I see the madness in the idea that a certain regime will give me Natalie Portman's skin at my age. But Dermalogica and Cellex-C brands would beg to differ, thank you. They promise no less than a time machine. I am a reasonable, grown woman. And yet, the knowledge magic products don't exist simply doesn't keep me from both indulging in and the use of ridiculously priced skin care stuff.

It's so strange: in most areas of my life. I'm not an extravagant person, really. I was raised in Mississippi, and trust me: not much money circulating around there, necessarily. There was not money for extravagance. And in many ways, I am both a frugal and sane person as a result. But when it comes to skin care products? I am officially a crazy person.

It is not without some shame I admit to you: I would likely sell my first born in order to continue the use of my current skin care products and routine. I have cut many, many corners as a primarily stay-at-home mom. I haven't bought an on-brand tampon since 2003. And I say I admit this with shame because I, as a professional and logically, know there's a limit to what serums and washes can do to stave off time. But damned if I'm haven't been going into hock trying.

What is wrong with me? I swear, it's pathological. Pre-wash. Wash. Tone. Eye gel. Moisturizer. Sunscreen. Neck cream, as I am officially my grandmother. Masks. Peels. I'm still wearing maternity underwear when my oldest is six because I refuse to buy new underwear. But by God I'm gonna fork out big bucks for any skin care product that promises to shrink my dinner-plate sized pores back into something more normal.

Guys. I have advanced college degrees. I have healthy self-esteem. But I also seem to have an addiction to facial products from which a twelve-step program couldn't keep me clean. And as I write this to you as I simultaneously tighten my aforementioned gargantuan pores, I contemplate what drives me and so many women I know to, let's face it, waste a ton of money of stuff for a feeling we can't buy.

So it occurs to me as I scour off my facial mask and return to the keyboard that I, like many women, despite our obvious evolution as a female gender, still have growing to do when it comes to realizing where our worth comes from. I am not my pores. And that you don't become less attractive as you age. No expensive wash or treatment will, in the end, really make that much of a difference. Time to channel our inner David Bowie: time to turn and face the change.

Have you SEEN Helen Mirren, Meryl Streep, Catherine Zeta Jones? Advancing age does not preclude hotness, my sisters. Time for an intervention. Here's to killing the proverbial two birds with one stone: let's cut down on consumerism, spend less, and shrink our carbon footprint...all at the same time dealing a blow to the nonsense message you're getting that you have to look twenty when you're forty. Or that there's actually some product you can buy to accomplish the reversal of time. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm about to check into the cost of some good old fashioned Ivory Soap and baby lotion.