Absolutely Bananas, at Absolutely Bananas (go figure) has started something new. We, women of a certain age (she's 22 for all I know. I just "met" her and agreed to play along with this splendid idea ::clap, clap, clap::). On the first day of the month, we REAL women are to make note of our REAL personal beauty secrets. I think the motive is to both educate and motivate. REAL women, REAL beautifying routines.
Since this is the first month, and we missed the first of the month, she's starting us on the 8th. From here on out, Hot Mama day will be on the first. Clear as mud. Just remember: After this, tune in on the first.
So. Today's the deadline, so here is my *official* first HMK (not to be confused with HNT).
I dragged my bff Diane, last month, into Sephora, for her first visit. Her first visit of the acres and acres of cosmetics, skin care, perfume, and surgical utensils meant to remove, pluck, file, and paint over issues we don't want the men in our lives to have any idea the existence of.
I don't have any money, you know, so I charged $78 on a 4-step kit of skin care, by Philosophy. Does this give you any idea of my desperate situation?
I actually bought a product called "Hope in a Jar."
What in the hell am I hoping?
I hope my skin won't be dry and skritchy this winter.
I hope it won't flake and crack.
I hope dark circles will disappear.
I hope to look like Cindy Crawford.
Yeah, when you hope to look like Cindy Crawford, it's time to graduate to the next product in the kit:
It's a serum, ladies. Doesn't the word serum connotate visions of the fountain of youth? Serum. Potion. I look 10 years younger just thinking about this stuff.
You just spread this serum all over your face. [Gentlemen: I said serum, not semen. Nice try though.] Before or after the JarHope, I have not figured out. Just do it.
And when you're all done with the JarHope, and the SerumHope, you touch up your eyes and lips with TubeHope:
Hope in a Tube. It kind of sounds like something that requires an embryo and a petri dish, but no. It requires crows' feet. And not the kind on an actual bird.
Are you following me? At all?
There's also a cleanser in the kit, and a few samples of something called "The MicroDelivery Peel." Steps I and II. Roman Numerals.
I tried this peel, right in front of Clint. The first step requires you to spread some sugary, grainy, vitamin C, stuff all over your face. It has peptides in it.
The second step is "LookOut!" Step. The activator. STAND BACK! "An overall warming sensation will occur and a white foam will appear," the instructions read.
Before applying Step Two, I warned Clint: "You'd better take a good look, Baby, because after I put THIS stuff on, You will not. Recognize. Me."
God, how he laughed.
And when all was said and done, he still knew who I was.
So, does the stuff work?
Actually, I love it. I've always taken relatively good care of my skin, so I don't think it's just that I've introduced a regimen.
I think the Philosophy stuff was well worth the expense. $78 is a TON of money for me, but the bottles, jars, and tubes in the kit were full-sized, and will keep me in skin care for months ahead, even if I manage to stick to a disciplined daily use.
And, at least, if all else fails, at least they're not pushing a product called "No Hope."
There's always hope.
Even if it does come in a jar.