Scrub a Dub Dub

My girl Kathryn turned me on to Paula's Choice products a long time ago and I've been using ever since. I don't use her stuff exclusively because I have other tried and true faves too, but some of her stuff is stellar.

If you find that you are always looking for a good exfoliating scrub but think that perhaps using Swiss Ives Apricot scrub (this includes ground walnut shells, by the way!) isn't the best route for you, you could be interested in Paula's line of exfoliating lotions.

What? Lotions? Yep. See, they have alpha and beta hydroxy acids, and they exfoliate your skin without a) burning the bejesus out of your face and b) burning the bejesus out of your face. There is a difference between the alpha and the beta (are we talking exboyfriend's personality profiles or scrubs here?) and it's important to know which is the best type for you. Paula goes into detail on her website as to which works for you, but basically it's a difference between AHA (alpha hydroxy acids) which are glycolic acidsand BHA (beta hydroxy acids) which are salicylic acids. If you're interested, definitely check out the link above (note: some folks are uber sensitive to these). I swear by the BHA 2% lotion. Keeps my skin smooth, which is good because skin that is bumpy AND hairy, not so much.

Sproutings

I may swear a bit. I have made the discovery that I have facial hair. Not peach-fuzzy blonde softness that sweeps across my skin like a teenager's tanned and lovely tummy. No, not that. I have hair first of all, on my fucking FACE. Like, Magnum P.I. mustache facial hair. Like, "Wow, I only notice it because you mentioned it" bullshit facial hair. It's right under my eye. My EYE! Who has almost-eye-hair, other than cavemen? Apparently dames like me, who after pumping out two chillens in two years, has faced the hormonal onslaught. On my face. I found a 2 inch hair under my chin on Saturday night before date-night with the hubby. Nothing says sexy like shaving next to your loved one at the sink. Can you pass me the Mach-3 honey?

I've always had to groom the brows which have grown almost Frida-like across my face. Rectangular-shaped brows I can manage. But when said eyebrow hair grows all the way up to my REAL hairline, I have to stop the show. Send in the clowns, and ask them to bring plenty of Nair with them.

In high school I rocked the Jolen often. That little teal, 3-D square box was found many a time on my bathroom sink. Like a chemists bunsen burner, it was ready to burn the shit out of my face. Not hair removal, you see...but hair bleaching. And, for those who haven't had the opportunity to work with Jolene, it's a cream, mixed with a vial of bleach granules that makes for a nifty mask to put upon your hairy area. It also included a square mixing platform and a spatula that could also be used in a dollhouse if your dolls made batches of delicious bleachcakes. . I often left it on too long as I am: 1) easily distracted 2) unorganized with matter of beauty of the quest therein 3) interested in a cookie, hold on and 4) I think I know better than the directions. Seven minutes? Naaah, Eleven would be much better. It will make the hair even LIGHTER, I bet! Sandra McSmarty pants often showed up with a red bozo-like mustache that stole the attention of her man-stache.

"Jen, did you burn yourself? Seriously, that looks sensitive, try some butter."

So here I am again, back in a shituation which requires: 1) Money I don't have to do laser Star Wars beam-like zapping treatments on my face 2) Time in the bathroom to ponder at new follicular growth, pluck it, shave it (no!), or wonder if the Nair bottle really means it when it says "DON'T USE THIS ON YOUR FACE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD."

As for right now, I think I'll suck it up and get myself a wax job. On my upper lip. And brow up to the hairline. And perhaps my chin.

Or, like my hubby suggested, we can grow matching goatees.

Kiss

You know that song, Copperline, by James Taylor? It's always been one of my favorites. It's about a time in a boy's life when things were simple and sweet. A time when you could go exploring for hours and come back with skinned knees and dirty fingernails and great stories to tell. A time when kissing someone for the first time stops your world in it's tracks. I played this song so much that the boy I used to babysit used to scream 'Jenny's song!' when he heard it with his mother.

I used some of the lyrics on the front cover of my first wedding album. I had married a sweetheart and this song reminded me of him and of us. The words, 'First Kiss, Ever I Took' was gold-embossed on the front of the black leather-bound book. It was my most sentimental time. As that marriage evolved into a sad tale, that innocent part of me started to harden up and I began to scoff at those kinds of lyrics. I remember hearing the opening note of the song on the radio and flipping the switch so fast I surprised myself. What had happened to me had happened to many of us, but this was my only love and I was a young, naive girl. I had married him. He had made a fool of me and I was convinced that the entire world knew it. I was angry that he took that innocence from me, and I couldn't even enjoy simple things like love songs or trips to Provincetown or baby showers without hating him.

So, time goes by as it has a way of doing, and my life moved on and up. That hardness is still there, but it's way down deep, underneath my layers of motherhood and marriage and friendship. I was watching television on Sunday night and saw that PBS was showcasing Mr. Taylor himself. I made a mental note to go back and check it out after I watched some of the 'Big Give' show. I forgot about it until I was channel-cruising at 10:30pm or so and I saw him. Darn it! I had missed most of it.

But, as fate would have it...I heard the opening note of my song. My Copperline. And it was a sweet as I had first remembered it. I sang every word, tears in my eyes. I thought of how good my life was, with my best guy's body next to me, keeping me warm. I smiled the most when I heard my favorite line...'First kiss, ever I took, like a page from a romance book. They sky opened and the earth shook, down on Copperline.'