Monday, April 26, 2004
Right. So guess what I'm doing now. No? Go on... one little guess? Chicken! Oh Well, you wouldn't have guessed it anyway. As we speak (or as I write) I am also plucking garlic out of my hair. No kidding. And yes, I put it there. Not in my hair specifically, but on my face. The hair thing is just an unfortunate stinky side affect that Giles (he he!) and I are going to have to live with until I wash it tomorrow morning. Why did I willingly smear a foul, yet healthy, substance on my face? Because it is the primary ingredient in a face mask from Lush (I love Lush, almost as much as American Crime Dramas) that will "calm and sooth sensitive and problem skin. "
Not that I have problem skin. Everyone knows twenty-six year olds have long outgrown problem skin. We no longer call it problem skin. Its the skin-you-will-have-to-live-with-for-the-rest-of-your-life because we finally realise that our mothers have lied to us. By twenty-six we no longer have the energy to spend agonising over every zit, spot, blackhead and "imperfection" that make daily appearances. Instead, we search for a quick fix buying hideously expensive creams (La Prairie anyone?) and lotions to put on our face in hopes of soothing it into some semblance of submission so we can leave the house.
Of course, the reason I've started smearing concoctions on my face is directly related to the wedding in 88 days. Hopefully, if I'm nice to my skin, it will be lulled into some sort of coma and behave itself for the wedding. The skin thing, of course, is just one of many things I'm doing to "prepare" my skin for the big day. There's also the "body brush" every morning in the shower, the exfoliating lavender bath scrub three times a week and the daily massaging lotion (always towards the heart) into my skin; all meant to improve circulation, reduce cellulite and improve my general radiance. All I'm saying is I better outshine the sun.
Moving on from the skin is the general state of the body - aka the 7 pounds courtesy of my extra generous mommy. For this I will be attending the gym three to four times a week. While there I will run, cross train, lift numerous weights and do bazaar situps on "the ball". I've considered going to pilates, but the entire touching the toes thing seems very unnatural. I couldn't touch my toes when I was eleven - why should I start now? My instructor Pat will lend his support by reviewing my current program and increasing the difficulty to guarantee difficulty hefting myself from the bed. Pat will then occasionally stand over me and encourage me in a loud threatening (think IRA) voice to do "just one more rep." Scary Irish trainers are effective.
To complement my fitness routine I am starting to eat healthy. I'm training myself to eat grapes. I've hated grapes since I can remember (amazing considering my partiality to wine), but I've convinced myself that they are actually "good" (good meaning they come conviently packaged with their own holders and are mostly water) and have started eating them. They're really not too bad, it's just the skin thing I'm having issues with. I'll keep you updated. I'm eating salad and while I'm not cancelling my weekly trip to Mickey D's I might try one of their new salads. I'll never ever live it down, but sometimes a girl needs to sacrifice her 'nuggets and apple pie for a good cause. Besides it's only for 88 days and then you'll know where I'll be!
Not that I have problem skin. Everyone knows twenty-six year olds have long outgrown problem skin. We no longer call it problem skin. Its the skin-you-will-have-to-live-with-for-the-rest-of-your-life because we finally realise that our mothers have lied to us. By twenty-six we no longer have the energy to spend agonising over every zit, spot, blackhead and "imperfection" that make daily appearances. Instead, we search for a quick fix buying hideously expensive creams (La Prairie anyone?) and lotions to put on our face in hopes of soothing it into some semblance of submission so we can leave the house.
Of course, the reason I've started smearing concoctions on my face is directly related to the wedding in 88 days. Hopefully, if I'm nice to my skin, it will be lulled into some sort of coma and behave itself for the wedding. The skin thing, of course, is just one of many things I'm doing to "prepare" my skin for the big day. There's also the "body brush" every morning in the shower, the exfoliating lavender bath scrub three times a week and the daily massaging lotion (always towards the heart) into my skin; all meant to improve circulation, reduce cellulite and improve my general radiance. All I'm saying is I better outshine the sun.
Moving on from the skin is the general state of the body - aka the 7 pounds courtesy of my extra generous mommy. For this I will be attending the gym three to four times a week. While there I will run, cross train, lift numerous weights and do bazaar situps on "the ball". I've considered going to pilates, but the entire touching the toes thing seems very unnatural. I couldn't touch my toes when I was eleven - why should I start now? My instructor Pat will lend his support by reviewing my current program and increasing the difficulty to guarantee difficulty hefting myself from the bed. Pat will then occasionally stand over me and encourage me in a loud threatening (think IRA) voice to do "just one more rep." Scary Irish trainers are effective.
To complement my fitness routine I am starting to eat healthy. I'm training myself to eat grapes. I've hated grapes since I can remember (amazing considering my partiality to wine), but I've convinced myself that they are actually "good" (good meaning they come conviently packaged with their own holders and are mostly water) and have started eating them. They're really not too bad, it's just the skin thing I'm having issues with. I'll keep you updated. I'm eating salad and while I'm not cancelling my weekly trip to Mickey D's I might try one of their new salads. I'll never ever live it down, but sometimes a girl needs to sacrifice her 'nuggets and apple pie for a good cause. Besides it's only for 88 days and then you'll know where I'll be!
