beauty

I’m your very certified, extremely serious anti-aging expert.

That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

Last week, a nurse at the V.A. had to double-verify that I was the correct patient for my vitals check because she didn’t believe that I could be the one born in 1968.
This type of thing is a common enough occurrence that I thought I’d address it here, as well as because I’m frequently asked how I take care of my skin.

I’m 56, and the usual assertions still apply: I haven’t had anything done, I don’t wear granny panties, and I don’t listen to A.M. radio stations.

In the car, not listening to an A.M. radio station.

I once got a facial that was included in a spa package that someone gifted me for my birthday. I hated it and never got one again.
Another time, I tried to wear one of those LED red-light face mask things, and I had a panic attack and had to rip it off. I packaged it back up and gave it to a friend.
I used to do facial masks. Eventually, I got lazy and dropped them from my routine.

According to skin care gurus, I do everything wrong.

You’re supposed to get 7-8 hours of sleep in order to have good skin. I get 4-5 hours, if I’m lucky.
You’re supposed to avoid showering in water that’s “too hot.” I shower in water that’s as hot as I can stand it.
Social media influencer skin care trends include buying water filter attachment things that you install on your shower and sink faucets so you don’t assault your skin with tap water. No.
They also say that you should dry your face between layers of skin-care products. No.
Cleanse your skin morning and night. No.
Use toner. No.
Get facial peels, Botox, and fillers. Burn the skin off my face? Inject my face with botulism toxin? Pump foreign materials into my face to change its shape? No, No, and NO.

About that last point: I’m not judging anyone who does these things. Neither am I saying that I’ll never have a change of heart and go for one or all of them, as terrifying as they sound, because that scenario does fall into the realm of possibility. If this ever happens, I’ll come back and let you know my thoughts!

What do I do, then? I’ll start with skin care.
Morning: I don’t cleanse my face in the morning. I drench a washcloth in very warm, almost hot water and press it onto my face just like that, dripping wet, over the sink. I hold it there for a minute or two. This compress soothes my Sjögren’s Syndrome eyes. Then I pat my skin dry and apply serum, eye cream, a mist of water from a small travel-section spray bottle, moisturizer, and sunscreen. Note: I mist water onto my face before applying moisturizer because moisturizers work by locking in moisture that’s on your skin. This is the opposite of what influencers do, with their fanning their faces or blowing their skin dry with little hand-held fans.
Night: Cleanse in the shower with gel cleanser, alternating nights with exfoliating cleanser. I avoid foaming cleansers. Then it’s the serum, eye cream, mist of water, and night cream. Sometimes I use an oil instead of a cream. I’m going to finish my open jar of night cream and then just use oil, I think. I give myself a little facial massage when I put on oil, and it feels like luxury.

The most important product in my routine is sunscreen. I use an SPF 50 mineral facial sunscreen with 24.1% zinc oxide, and I slather it on generously every morning.

Products:
I have a ride-or-die brand of skin care products, and I know where to go to get good deals on it! It’s a brand that’s sold in supermarkets and drug stores, so I never have to set foot in Ulta or Sephora. The brand has at least five lines of products, and I have favorites among them, but I ultimately get whatever’s on sale. I only use cruelty-free, vegan skin care products.

What else?

I have a few other habits that I think are helpful, starting with drinking a full glass of room-temperature water first thing in the morning (because of Sjögren’s, but I think it’s good for the skin, too). I have a daily glass of this delicious sparkling pink lemonade collagen drink. I used to take an anti-oxidant supplement daily, but now I just drink tea – black, green, or matcha.

Collagen support and delicious antioxidants.

As for what I eat, I’m 100% plant-based, and I like to eat mostly nutritionally-dense foods. I read labels and look for whole food ingredients. Organic is always good. With few exceptions, I avoid refined carbohydrates, meaning refined sugars and white rice, white potatoes, white pasta, and white breads (except for sourdough, which doesn’t behave like a refined carb). Avoiding sugar means avoiding alcohol; I don’t drink.

Let’s see… I don’t smoke. I work out regularly. I avoid the sun, even though I wear gobs of sunscreen. I guess this covers it, but I have a feeling that I’m forgetting something!

As far as I can think for now, that’s it, friends. I basically just try to live a healthy life. I have a severe, systemic autoimmune disease, so it’s important to me to try to optimize my habits and routines to this end. With the exception of sleep duration, I think I do pretty okay.

May this find you enjoying a marvelous day or night!

Body Image and the Great Strip-Down

That Asian-Looking Chick 4 Comments

When I sat down to write about body image, I found myself mired in writer’s block before my fingers even touched the keyboard. Where could I begin to talk about this issue? It’s intimidating in its vastness, and thousands of articles on the subject have already been written. So many of us struggle with our self-worth where our bodies are concerned.

What came to mind first was the following incident:

When I was in Arizona, I had a boyfriend whose family lived in a large house in a semi-rural suburb. The lot on which it sat had a modest expanse of lawn and a scattering of shrubbery fringing the perimeter around the front yard. Though it could have used some work, the yard was by no means ill-maintained; still, the neighbors took it upon themselves to show up one day with hedge-trimmers, weed-whackers, gardening shears and the like. They stood on the front porch (I was there to witness it), ready to work. They exuded good intentions with the sort of self-satisfaction that goes with donating precious resources to a charity case.

You see, that yard just had to be brought up to “standards,” and if the occupants of the house weren’t going to do it, then by god, someone else had to. The yard was an eyesore, they figured. It was bringing down the neighborhood. Maybe the appearance of the yard would even decrease the value of their homes. This is all speculation; I don’t know what they were thinking, exactly. People can be persnickety.

My boyfriend’s parents were mortified. They stood on their side of the security screen door at a loss for words. “Thank you,” they murmured… because what else could they think to say at that moment? What do you do with unsolicited volunteerism to correct something of yours that you never knew was wrong?

Good intentions aside, the neighbors came across as critical, maybe even judgmental, and their collective action seemed more insulting and intrusive than akin to a random act of kindness. They actually took time out of their weekends to impose their aesthetics on someone else’s house. “We thought we’d get together and work on your yard,” their spokesperson announced in so many words, full of vim and vigor. I couldn’t believe the nerve. Plus, the yard really wasn’t that bad. In fact, I’d thought I’d seen the same or worse here and there throughout the neighborhood. It wasn’t like this was a shabby yard surrounded by “perfect” ones.

So what about this memory brings to mind the issue of body image? The concept of aesthetic “standards.” Other people’s standards, and the pressure placed on us to meet them.

In this era of obsession with physical perfection, very few of us feel that we look “good enough” to count as worthy. So how to overcome the persistent messages that being attractive (according to other peoples’ definitions) should be a paramount goal in life? How to become impervious to the messages of society-mandated physical perfection plastered all over the media? How to not care?

I thought about it. For me, I found that the answer lies somewhere in this truth: My body is my house, and it’s prime real-estate… because it’s mine to do with as I please. It’s the only thing I truly own, me, by myself. I live here, I want to shout to the tentacles of the media. Get off my lawn!!

The space I inhabit within my body is the same as the space I inhabit within my home, and it’s no one’s business what I do with those spaces. Those spaces are sacred to me. I’m not okay with “good neighbors” on my doorstep telling me what’s wrong on the outside, and I’m absolutely against the idea of intruders coming in to dictate what will happen on the inside.

It seems that we’re fixated on altering our bodies for the gratification of others and to match the innumerable images of what “desirable” looks like. Though men aren’t entirely exempt from the bombardment of these subtle and not-so-subtle directives, women remain the central targets. Focus on women’s bodies far exceeds the focus on men’s bodies. Feelings of physical inadequacy aren’t quite the equal opportunity demons they should be.

My thoughts keep returning to that house and its yard. How the neighbors came with their gardening tools to trim, shape and prune the vegetation until its contours resembled their own ideals of not only acceptability, but desirability. When did it become permissible to judge the exteriors of our homes to the point where others will come to impose their ideals on us? The problem is that when any space we inhabit is regarded with a critical eye, it’s difficult to avoid self-consciousness… and self-consciousness brings us down. It can lead to irrational thinking about how we can “fix” ourselves. It can lead to self-starvation and self-mutilation in our quest to comply with the beauty ideals of our time.

It’s like comparing our living spaces to those of others. We find ourselves examining the walls that surround us, becoming as critical of them as our critics… maybe even more so, since it’s true that we’re often our own worst critics. Suddenly, what we have isn’t good enough. Where we are isn’t good enough.

Then we think about it. We take stock of what we need, compare it to what we have, and then realize how lucky we are. We have a functional structure in which to live.

We have somewhere to lay our heads when we’re tired. Somewhere to bathe our bodies. Somewhere to sit and think and be alone. Somewhere to spend intimate time with others when we don’t want to interact in public. Somewhere to store, keep, admire, use and enjoy the things we have.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could feel this appreciative and secure within the homes that are our bodies?

Now that current economic realities have somewhat stifled the “keep up with the Joneses” mindset that influenced our sense of self-worth in the extravagant ’80’s, why can’t we nudge ourselves out of that same mentality where our bodies are concerned? Why continue trying to “keep up with” anybody in terms of how we look?

There’s just no point in comparing ourselves to others.

So I ask myself this question: If make a list of things I need in order to feel good about myself, what would it look like?

I came up with this: Lasting harmony, growth and passion with my life partner. Mental, spiritual, physical and emotional health. Contentment and joy. Accomplishment and satisfaction. Triumph and progress. Acceptance and dignity.

The list isn’t without its “oh my god impossible” factor, but it’s invigorating nonetheless. I feel motivated for the right reasons. It’s time to separate my body from my self-worth, and I can start by trying to shrug off the bullshit messages of our body-centric society. In doing so, I’m freeing myself to nurture and enrich other areas of my being and my life. I’m happy with my aspirations to focus on interiors, rather than exteriors.

For one thing, I know that when I look in the mirror, there are more terrible things I could see than my physical “imperfections.”

I wouldn’t want to look in the mirror and see money I don’t have, and feel poor. I wouldn’t want to see what’s gone from my life, and feel a desperate vacancy. I wouldn’t want to see what’s been taken away, and find ghosts where my reflection should be. I wouldn’t want to see the pride I can’t swallow or the temper I can’t control. I certainly wouldn’t want to look in the mirror and find a guilty conscience in the aversion of my gaze, because above all, I have to be able to look into my own eyes. That is where I should see beauty. And that’s where others should see it, too.

What feels healthy and good on the inside diminishes the importance of what people see on the outside, and that renders them impotent. My self-worth becomes immutable.

So this is the strip-down, the way I see it. I’ll make a point of baring myself to the elements every once in a while, just as a reminder of the value of what’s really there. I could stand in my entryway completely naked while I’m at it. Come and tell me what needs to be fixed. I might hold a mirror up to your face before I quietly close the door.

Make-Up? Big Ugly Deal!

That Asian-Looking Chick Leave a comment

For some reason, make-up bashing seems to be coming into vogue. Generally, I’m hearing things like “make-up is nonsense,” and its users are “superficial” or “high-maintenance.” We are reassured that we don’t need to wear make-up, so we shouldn’t worry about it. Of course, in our beauty-obsessed culture, it’s flattering to hear that we can bypass cosmetics because we look great the way we are. These are nice words to hear. But it’s also kind of a dubious compliment, when you think about it. It’s like, thank you for your approval of our un-made-up faces, because otherwise we’d think that we would, indeed, need to wear make-up. We would feel “naked” without it. And that’s terrible, right? It’s sad.

I love make-up. A lot of women do. We enjoy it. For many of us, wearing it isn’t a burden or an obligation to the beauty police of the world… putting it on is simply a part of our grooming and getting-ready-to-leave-the-house routines. In that sense, yes, we might feel naked without it, just as we’d feel naked without clothing. But what’s so sad about this? What’s the big deal about wearing make-up? What am I missing here?

True, it’s unfortunate that society often pressures women into believing that they need make-up in order to be pretty. I get that. No argument there. But can it be said that all women who wear make-up do so as a result of societal pressure? No. People have probably worn it long before Cleopatra came along with her dramatic, heavy eye make-up. And I’m pretty sure that Cleopatra didn’t wear make-up because she felt pressured by society.

This idea applies to other forms of body art. Think about tattoos! Tattoos have overcome years of negative association; they’re finally merging into a fashion realm approaching the mainstream to the point where tattoo intolerance is recognized as antiquated. Now why would anyone bother to understand the concept of creative self-expression behind tattooing, but profess to not understand the same of wearing make-up? They both qualify as body art. The only difference is that one is permanent, and the other isn’t.

Sure, we can look around and spot make-up that doesn’t appeal to us. No doubt there’s poorly applied make-up out there, too. We’ve all seen it. Likewise, we’ve seen tattoos that we wouldn’t choose for ourselves, or ones that are badly done. There are whole websites devoted to bad tattoos. Thing is, if you make a mistake with make-up, you can fix it. If you make a mistake with a tattoo, you’re stuck with it… unless you decide to have it removed, which is an excruciatingly painful experience, from what I understand. Make-up removal can be annoying, but the removal of a tattoo? Torturous. Time-consuming. Expensive. And it still looks like crap in the end. Maybe even worse, with the scar tissue that results.

The bottom line here, though, is that it’s our decision what make-up we wear and how we wear it, just as the tattoos we get is our choice (at the mercy of the tattooist doing the work). It’s not for us to criticize others for their personal aesthetic choices.

You know what’s sad to me? That those who decorate themselves with tattoos are still pressured – yes, by society – to cover up and hide their body art from certain people, in certain situations. Going on job interviews. Presenting yourself in other areas of the professional sphere. (We as a society still, for the most part, lag in the area of tattoo acceptance in the workplace. See the Facebook page of the same title.) Visiting with family members, potential future in-laws, your kid’s teachers, or the parents of your kid’s friends. And so on. How is this less “sad” than women feeling naked without make-up? It’s the same concept, but in reverse. Not all women feel like they “need” to wear make-up, but most people with tattoos feel that they ought to conceal them at times. We know that society can pressure us into not getting tattoos, but if we want them, we’re going to get them anyhow… because we like them. Because they make us feel good. Because they’re meaningful to us in some way. Because they’re art. Make-up, too, is an art. It’s is an art like any other art; it’s privy to subjectivity and open to personal interpretation and intention. People who apply it on others are called “make-up artists” for a reason.

Besides, make-up can be fun. Reaching beyond simple grooming and vanity, make-up is fantasy. In one way or another, everyone likes to play make-believe every once in a while. It’s a step above a daydream to feel like you’re transforming yourself, not because you don’t like who you are, but because doing so momentarily releases you from the worries that contribute to the shape of you. This is what many people find so compelling about reading novels… losing yourself in a story is a harmless form of escapism. Make-up can also make us feel liberated. It’s hard to feel imprisoned when slipping deliciously into a persona of our own creation. It’s hard to feel imposed upon when we use make-up to achieve the look we want, whether that happens to be in an enhancement capacity, or a theatrical one, or anything else.

Make-up can also serve as a powerful tool in our overall well-being. This is a documented fact: if we see the dark circles and bags under our eyes, we can end up feeling more tired than we actually are. Make-up can give us a mental and psychological boost, which can make us feel more physically vibrant. There’s something to be said for the adage “The mind is more powerful than the body.” When we look less tired, we feel less tired. When we feel less tired, we feel less old. Feeling less old means feeling more energetic. I fully believe that the younger we look, the younger we feel.

This reminds me of Coco Chanel, who said, “When you give women back their mystery, you give them back their youth.”

Mystery! The inexplicable, incomprehensible sparking of excitement and wonder and curiosity, the stirring by surprise… make-up can create a mysterious vibe if we want it to. Awesome, right? Make-up can be magical. Probably no one knew this better than Cleopatra herself.

Anyway, I’m not sure how make-up got its bad rap of being pointless, silly, frivolous, or extraneous. It doesn’t make sense to me.

When I put on make-up, I come out looking the way I want to look, not how others want me to look. I don’t need anyone’s implicit permission to go without it. I appreciate the compliments on my natural beauty, but I don’t need or want to be saved from spending time, effort and money on make-up.

I have to wonder whether Mark Antony ever told Cleopatra that he preferred her without make-up.

You know what I think we should do with cosmetics? Whatever we want. If you want to wear make-up, then wear it. If you don’t want to, then don’t. It doesn’t matter either way, because beauty isn’t about what’s on your face, and neither is your self-worth. We shouldn’t feel apologetic for wearing make-up or not wearing it. What we do with our faces is no one’s concern but our own.