Feb
23
A few Elsewhere Blogging links, because I haven’t done this in a while:
• I have started going to this uber-spendy personal trainer gym and I don’t want to stop but it’s wicked expensive. Justifiable cost, or financial insanity?
• Speaking of expensive shit, are these fancy-ass products worth their pricetag? (I forgot to include premium denim jeans in this post, to which my answer is a YES YES YES, beg borrow or steal the cash if you have to, I promise that the right pair of break-the-bank jeans is worth every single penny.)
• Bodies in Motivation blogs have been updated a bit so it should be easier to see who’s writing each post, and navigate through them. I am so loving these blogs, and I hope you are too.
Lastly, I made a little video of Dylan in honor of this inexplicably hilarious Denny’s ad, and if you ever hear me say I’m “too busy” to do something, just remind me of the ENTIRE AFTERNOON I spent drawing a mustache on my kid’s face, tying up his arms and legs, and wrestling with iMovie in order to produce a freaking 10-second clip.
Feb
22
THRILLING UPDATE* ON THE HAIR QUESTION:
(*Update not actually thrilling. Contents may have shifted during shipping. The amount of shit you give on this boring topic may vary.)
I decided to get the de-volumizing trim instead of hacking it back to my former uber-short bob, mostly because I weep at the idea of not being able to pull it back into pigtails on my extra-greasy no-time-for-personal-hygiene days. We’ll see how the prep time goes now that it’s thinned out and not like a giant YETI PELT on top of my head.
How’s that for a flattering, informative self portrait? Also, black bra under semi see-through shirt, CLASSY. Anyway, it’s a little shorter, a lot less heavy, and about five shades lighter. Relief!
While I was at the salon I ended up flipping through about twenty fashion magazines while various things were happening to my hair, and I couldn’t help noticing that while I had arrived feeling fairly okay about my appearance and not particularly caring a whole lot about the texture of my skin or the length of my eyelashes, by the time I’d finished my stack of Marie Claire, Glamour, Allure, etc, I felt in dire need of a total body makeover, including nail bed implants and nostril pumicing. My face had suddenly become saggy, lined, dry, oily, and disproportional; my clothes were ill-fitting, unfashionable, and I couldn’t decide if I should have been concentrating on dressing a Pear or a Busty shape; and my shoes, having cost less than $100, were completely unacceptable.
I know it’s not exactly breaking news that beauty magazines aren’t really designed to make you feel good about yourself, but I’ve never been so cognizant of their effect before. Each page made me more and more desirous of various skin unguents and hair treatments and cosmetic products, while I became more and more mired in a lather of self-criticism: why didn’t I have invisible pores, why don’t I own any purses not formed from pleather, why am I not doing Pilates, WHY?
I ended up detoxing with a Star magazine by staring at a picture of Madonna’s creepy new face and reminding myself that too much self-improvement can be a bad, bad thing.
In other news, it’s supposed to rain all damn week long, so I’m extra glad we got out and spent some time in the sun yesterday. Even if it was at a playground with weird plaster whales stuck in the ground.
-
My product review site:
[