Tuesday, February 28, 2012

Facial Toner

"Mary, you are in your early twenties right?"

Surely it doesn't count if you lie to an eight year old. "Yes. Very early twenties."

"Well, how old are you exactly?"

"I am twenty - four."

"Hmm. That means you are turning twenty - five in April."

"......yes....."

"So ACTUALLY, you are in your mid twenties."

*Whimper*

I had a crisis when I turned 18: suddenly I could drink legally and I was supposed to vote. That seemed much too grown up for me, and I spent the morning of my eighteenth birthday in tears. And now, with twenty - five just around the corner, I feel another crisis coming on. A quarter life crisis. Because...I can officially say I am......a quarter CENTURY old.

I know. I know. Twenty - five isn't that aged. But the thing is.....I am noticing some changes that I really don't like.

For one thing, I bought a teeth whitening kit the other day. I am not sure if the current state of my teeth is the product of age or tea, but I will blame the former before I blame the latter because......I can't give up tea.

Then, there is my skin. I have always had nearly perfect skin, without ever having to do anything to warrant that. I washed my face when I remembered. I put on moisturizer if I thought my skin felt dry. But mostly, I did nothing.

Not so anymore. Suddenly I have weird dry patches and weird break out patches and I am completely and utterly obsessed with how clogged my pores feel. What a first world problem to have, am I right? Maybe I should go Africa and get my priorities straight.

But...BUT... this morning I noticed two tiny indentations between my eyebrows that DON'T GO AWAY EVEN WHEN I STOP FURROWING MY EYEBROWS. They are there PERMANENTLY.

So, I went to Kiehl's, mostly because it was the first place I saw when I entered the mall, plus every time I open InStyle, I see a huge spread on them. I was barely inside the store when I was nabbed by an extremely solicitous assistant who seemed completely anxious to know what I needed help with. She ushered me into a chair, and I sobbed out my woeful story.

"Well, your skin doesn't really look that bad. But I will do an analysis anyway." She blotted my face with some weird tester sticks, compared the results to a chart and came back with her diagnosis. "You have completely normal skin, with dry patches on your cheeks."

I could have told her that. "But I want AMAZING skin. I want it to stop getting OLD."

"We can certainly help. Wait one minute."

*A short BBM conversation later:* "Darling. So wonderful to meet you."

I looked up into the face of a perfectly dressed, perfectly coiffed man, outfitted in a WHITE LAB COAT, gazing with concern and oozing helpfulness. "Tell me your story. Leave nothing out." He fixed his eyes on mine like a sympathetic priest during confession, and made small noises of affirmation as I told him the whole history of my skin. As I finished, he gasped just a little.

"What do we hear missing? Hmm? A crucial element." He looked expectantly at the shop assistant.

"Toning. She doesn't tone her skin."

"Precisely. Sweetheart. You MUST tone. Absolutely ESSENTIAL. It must become a daily element of your beauty regimen. This (handing me a bottle filled with amber liquid) is what you need. It has hand - picked calendula petals."

Well, if they are hand-picked.....

"And now. Cleanser. Tell me. What is hardest on your skin? Stress? Fluctuating hormones?"

"Oh hormones, hands down. They rule my life."

"Sweetheart, it happens to ALL of us. This will just save your life. "

He has fluctuating hormones too? Do all men have fluctuating hormones? Or just ones who desire to identify very closely with women?

"And I suspect you might just LOVE this: our Midnight Recovery Concentrate. It works miracles."

"Will it even out my skin tone? And help with my wrinkles? If I don't get something that helps, I will need Botox in my forehead by thirty!"

"Oh darling, we've ALL been there. Pat this on after you cleanse and tone, and then seal it with this moisturizer. Magic. Perfection."

"And you are SURE this will work?"

"We will call you next week to make sure it does. You will have glowing skin in no time."

I grasped the counter full of products as if my life depended on it. Both plastic surgery and a burqa seemed inevitable if I didn't buy ALL of the face-saving products. So, a short credit card swipe later, and I was on my way into Victoria's Secret.

Bad idea. You know what I'm talking about. What woman, ever, in any circumstance, wants to be surrounded by posters of VICTORIA'S SECRET MODELS??

Umm.......

I started contemplating extensive liposuction and a full body lift, along with a potential height increase of at least six inches.

At which point I realized I was starting to let myself be crazy... and that maybe the crazy had started when I so eagerly latched onto facial toner with hand-picked calendula leaves, simply because I have a wrinkle on my forehead and a dry spot on my cheek.

But it is so, so easy. North American culture is hard-wired to make us look in the mirror and hate what we see. Case in point: at my sibling's school about half of the mothers look as if they are psychopathic mass murders. Their faces are so full of Botox that they can't smile or move their eyebrows.

After wandering around small town Greece and France I think I am suffering a culture shock. In both places, I became accustomed to graceful, naturally aged faces. They were beautiful in their expressiveness and in the stories the laugh lines and eye-smile crinkles told.

I didn't really realize how much I liked the look of everyone until I re-entered North America, and was faced on a daily basis with smooth faced, airbrushed perfection. I became acclimatized very quickly and....

ended up with a charming gay man ministering to me in Kiehl's, and a bag full of special liquids meant to halt my intensely speedy aging process.

I am the crazy I don't wish to see in the world. Whoops.

1 comment:

  1. Love it. Victoria secret... I always feel awful when I go in there, and cannot convince myself to ever try anything on because that would involve taking off my clothes...Exposing my extremely white belly... Erg... But who wants breast implants that end up being as hard as rocks.
    Hehehe. Well..Anyway. I am jealous of your skin. Seriously. I have a rash breakout if I look at citrus fruit. And am allergic to almost every shampoo. The fabulous man sounds spirit lifting though :D... haha, Mary.

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