That for which I LIVE:
My Baby, My Babies, My Furry Babies, My Friends, My Books, My Movies, My Yarn, My Brooches, My Insatiable Wanderlust…oh, and LOTIONS, POTIONS, TINCTURES, and UNGUENTS.
Allow me to explain myself: You see, other than my single tube of FINE, RED LIPSTICK, I don’t do makeup — unless, of course, I am being PAID to do so. If that’s the case, then lemme tell you…I WILL WEAR SOME MAKE-UP LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. Pull out the hatchet and the trowel and let’s fucking GET TO IT!
Other than that, I find make-up extraordinarily messy, orthogonal, unpleasant, and suffocating. It doesn’t give me confidence, as some women claim it does for them. It feels like a clotted wall between me and the rest of the world — like a filter that is cock-blocking me from making contact with others and communicating my truest self. It is distracting to me and thwarts me as I go about my daily bidness of kickin’ ass and takin’ names. How can I be expected to clobber in this lifetime when I am worried about my mascara running, my eyeshadow creasing, or my foundation being two shades off and makin’ me look like a Fresno chola who just barely got here?
Make-up is PURE RUBBISH and it gets in the way of my fun and my pleasure, and if you know me, you certainly know that MAMA DON’T PLAY THAT SHIT. And yes, I am well aware that this is just another example of my profound failure as a girl. Yeah, I FAIL. But ask me if I give a shit and I will give you my most heartfelt answer:
With that said, I do, however, LOVE ME SOME SKIN CREMES. SOME BODY BUTTERS. SOME SILKY, LUXURIOUS MOISTURIZERS. And because I am such a lover of all things creamy, luscious, and yummy, I am always on the lookout for EVERMORE EPIDERMILOGICAL DELIGHTS. In fact, one of my earliest, most comforting childhood memories is the cherry/almond scent of ol’ school Jergens Lotion. There used to be a tall, white bottle of it sitting on my mother’s dresser, and I would toddle over, open a drawer, climb up, and pump one dollop of it into my little hand. When I smell that smell now, I am instantly transported back, back, back…to an elegant, more interesting time — when even the bottle of hand lotion you bought at the corner drugstore held wonder, allure, beauty, and yes, glamour.
So, tell me what you love to slather! Tell me what makes your largest organ smell like heaven! Tell me what smooths over all your rough spots! Tell me what makes you succulent!
I am SO excited to hear all about your lotion loveys. Turn the cap, squeeze the tube, blop it on, and WORK ME.