Ask me about my energy balls.
I‘m taking part in a 30-day writing experiment. The theme for me is “personal, not pretty.” See Kale & Cigarettes for details and the Facebook Group to read stories by other 500-words-ers.
I was reading Vanessa Fiola’s great post about her skincare routine and for-real LOL-ing. I truly envy how committed she is to taking care of her skin. I admire people with that kind of conviction to self-care.
My own skincare routine is that I <sometimes> remember to wash my face.
My entire skincare routine, on a good day.
Actually, I do one thing for my skin: I moisturize the freaking crap out of it. I have a thing for moisturizer that borders on the manic. Partly this is because I have very dry skin, and refuse to ever drink water, for some sick reason. And partly it’s because I live in the Wasatch mountains of Utah, where the air is not just dry and basically unbreathable thanks to the pollution in the Salt Lake Valley, but there is hardly any oxygen in it—and the sun is merciless.
I really want to be a person who takes good care of her skin. I am excellent at self-care in many other ways. I spend a goddamned fortune on organic whole foods and cook most of our meals from scratch. I am also one of the only people I know who eats three solid meals a day and never skips breakfast. Yesterday day I made “energy balls” as a family snack: almond butter, honey, ground coconut, chia seeds, hemp seeds, cacao nibs, and spices—all mashed together and rolled up into little bite-sized balls. (Thanks, Leslie.)
For real you guys, this is how I eat. It’s like next-level Pilgrim hippie nonsense, as my friend Maynard would say.
I am also obsessed with sleep, and since I can’t get any these days, I take this obsession out on my husband and am constantly demanding that he go to bed and get some sleep before he has to get up early for work. As I am writing this, in fact, he is asleep at 7pm and I am feeling like I got ‘er done.
But for some reason, I have a mental block about the skincare thing. I think of skincare kind of like the way I feel about vacuuming—I know it’s important and it’s really gross not to do it, but it’s a total pain and puts me in a bad mood and then the difference is hardly noticeable. I prefer chores and self-care activities that have an obvious and immediate payoff. That’s why my husband vacuums, and I make baby food.
When I was pregnant I had terrible rosacea. My face was red and blotchy and it burned. I tried everything; nothing helped. I swore to myself that if it ever went away, I would start taking really great care of my skin. I didn’t.
The other day, I spent almost $100 at Sephora on make-up. I promised myself I would start wearing at least mascara every day. That has not happened, either.
Am I drinking water right now? Nope. Coffee.
I’m hopeless.
