Laughing At Spilled Milk: Dermatological Doom

This week I went to the mall to purchase a skin care system for my face.

The mall.  I went to the mall.  The mall.  I have to keep saying it to myself because if I do maybe the shock will wear off and I can somehow digest what I have done.

I went to the mall: the one place in the universe where I have an anxiety disorder; hives, shortness of breath, elevated heart rate – an emotional allergy if you will. Seriously, once in High School I snoozed in a coffin and found it cozy, but the mall?  There the walls of my mortality close in around me. There and IKEA, the Swedes answer to the mall.

I went to the mall…to purchase a skin care system for my face.

Remember that pathetic piano playing Muppet guy who couldn’t ever seem to plunk out Mary Had a Little Lamb?  Every time he would get a note wrong would bang the keyboard with his head yelling, “I’ll never get it!  Never! Never!” Yeah…replace “never!” with “why?!?” and the keyboard with the steering wheel in my van and you will have an accurate picture of me in the parking lot post purchase.

I have since decided that a series of unfortunate events led me to this temporary madness:

  1. The magazines in the grocery checkout lane. Apparently 40 is the new 25 – 30. I could choose to believe this is because we’re finally picking up the sunscreen and putting down the cigarettes, but what if that isn’t enough?
  2. Jennifer Aniston.  She is my age and her unnatural hotness leaves the real people looking like pug dogs. The selfish cow blew the bell curve.
  3. A “friend” educated me on the harmful effects of using body wash on my face. Apparently, this will cause it to dry up like a tumbleweed and blow off my skull by the time I’m 45.

So I researched skin care on the internet and picked the best one I could find at the lowest price, put on sunglasses and a stocking cap, drove my van to the “lair of greed” (it wasn’t even Christmas – the only acceptable time to darken those heavy glass doors), slapped down my greenbacks and ran out as quickly as I could feeling like I had just sold my soul in a drug deal or something (which probably would have been both financially and emotionally cheaper), all the while trying not to think of the starving babies of the world with their swollen bellies and sad, empty eyes.  “Yes, this money could have fed your village for a month but sorry, I really needed anti-gravity cream and dark spot corrector.”

And we’re back to the Muppet head banging image.

This is the part of the post where I figure it all out and conclude with a mildly inspiring lesson. (Pause to ponder) Can’t really do that this time because still not sure how I feel about it.  Really, ever since I have been nursing a migraine which I am translating as either my feelings of guilt or God’s judgment.

So, how about you?  Are there indulgences that you treat yourself to that you fight feeling guilty over?

This entry was posted in Aging, Body Image, Expectations, Fashion/Style, goals, humor, Laughing At Spilled Milk, Looks. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Laughing At Spilled Milk: Dermatological Doom

  1. Cathy Lester says:

    Bobbi Brown. She owns my soul.
    I have a color of skin that is – well, not Maybelline. All other makeups look like pink spackle on my face and Bobbi Brown is the only one clever enough to have come up with my skin color’s foundation. It costs enough to pay for food for the village next door to your village. And yet, my brown spots are somewhat incognito and “I’m worth it”. Maybe. Maybe not. Oh crap, I don’t know.
    Head Banging Sister.

    • LASM says:

      Chick, you are SO worth it! And I love the “Head Banging Sister” Sounds like a great name for a chick band, yes?

  2. Connie Tendler says:

    Oh Jennifer Aniston….a love/hate relationship!!! I love her….but does she have to look so good AND be a year older than me? Or is it a year younger? It doesn’t matter- either way she is killing me!
    And yes, I spend all my money on Aveda products for my hair. I pay for the whole salon experience every 6 weeks and then take home the good stuff to keep it going!!! I could feed a small country….but then I wouldn’t have all those natural highlights and no gray. I want my daughter to remember me without gray hair!

    • LASM says:

      My daughter gives me grief for coloring my hair. Says I should leave it my natural color. Interesting coming from the child who took all of my natural highlights with her when she was born!

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