The Sunshine Post #18

Hello dears!



I have very few vices in life, but for the little that I have, at least they're good for me. They are, in no particular order: books, journals, and skin care products. The last one is something I got into only during high school after my best friend urged me to "invest in my skin." I may not own a makeup brush, or lip gloss, or a bottle of hair spray, but I own every type of skin care product known to man. If there's one thing I want in life, it's to age well – not to look your age, but to look like you made the most out of the years given to you.



My friends know this obsession as my thing – if I became a doctor, I would have likely become a dermatologist. I am optimistic every time I see my parents and my relatives who, thank God, age pretty well and look rather young for their years. Yes, Mom, genetics may have swayed me away from cancer research but dang it, I will still look good when I hit 60!



Last Sunday, my ex-professor Sandra took me to a department store to have something I hadn't had in months – a facial! Whee! As a registered bride, she and her friends can spend an afternoon being indulged in the pleasures of one of the most heinously expensive French skin care lines which I will not tell you because of this story. When a facial is free, apparently there is a catch – you are the one who will apply everything on yourself. There were bottles lined up on a red satin-covered table at which we sat (not lay down, oh no. Sheesh.) and were introduced to the skin care line with incredibly unpronounceable ingredients by a girl in a white lab coat. I used to have to draw those molecular structures in organic chemistry class, which I despised.



Ah, what I'd give to be one of those rich housewives who do nothing but use their credit card! Uh, nothing. Inactivity is not my thing, yo. I think it's one reason why even something as simple as cleaning your face is made to be so complicated: to give the Ladies Who Lunch something to pass the time away. When removing cleanser, one had to rip a tissue paper into two, lay it on one's face, press hard, fold the lower half upwards, fold the left side to the right, then finally use that one square of paper to wipe the last corner of your face.



Applying toner is also new. You have to work on both cheeks with two hands to make both sides of your face have the same treatment – kind of like an experiment in that sense, but come ON, man! It's just toner, for the love of God.



As I obediently applied the next – hmm, moisturizer? Radiance booster? I don't remember. The girl looked at me and said very sternly, "No. Long strokes. Like this." And then she proceeded to illustrate The Touch that is trademark of the brand. Both hands on the face, then go upward from the corners of the mouth to the temples. Over. And over. Again. Repeat. That did it. You guys, I tried so hard to be silent and morose, but hearing the words "long strokes" and being so anal about a face cream made me laugh uncontrollably. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!, " I wheezed in between guffaws. "It's just that… HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The girl looked like she wanted to kill me.



I calmed down after thinking sad thoughts, apologized and remarked on the nice cleansing sensation my pores were receiving (which they did). Minutes later, another girl entered the scene and proceeded to take photos for "our file." At this, we all shielded our faces from the camera with me shrieking, "No pictures! I work for non-profit!" The logic of that sentence befuddles me, too, but sheesh, man – if this gets published anywhere, I will sue your ass. I did learn something from them New Yorkers.



We did this for the next hour, applying product after product and removing them with sheets of cotton. My God, I love taking care of my skin but I never take this long, yo! I think vanity can only be taken so far before we all have to just slap ourselves in the face and say, "Our cells are all going to senesce. Let us accept it and move on."



Oh spite, oh hell. I don't know if it's a bad thing that I don't take a lot of things very seriously anymore, but it's very liberating not to feel like I must obey something just because someone in "authority" tells me to. That's one thing I'm not sure how to feel about – the lack of strong opinions on most things. I think I've developed the ability to zone out people and environmental stimuli to the point that there have been many times when I've nearly gotten hit by cars because I don't hear them. On the other hand, it's very peaceful and joyous to know that you don't care about what anyone else says. It allows me to make decisions solely on the basis of whether I believe in them or not, instead of asking myself if it will make someone else happy. Sometimes, it takes as much strength to take responsibility for yourself as it is to care about other people.



While we were sitting there quietly for a mandatory 15-minutes to wait for our beauty masks to work their magic, I with a hideous white silk bib over my yellow "Procrastinators: Leaders of Tomorrow" t-shirt and an equally hideous white headband with my face full of gunk, Sandra turns to me looking equally monstrous and says:



"You know, when you were my student, I never thought we would have this moment."



I had 10 products on my face. It's starting to smell weird.



Does anyone want a picture?



Lots of love,

Cathy



P.S. Everyone's been calling me 'Catherine' the past week. What's up with that, man?!