Products used:
Cetaphil Cleanser
Cetaphil Moisturizer
Nicola Roberts' Dainty Doll Foundation by Jelly Pong Pong in Ivory
N.Y.C. loose powder
I have such a dumpling face. It's funny--like I am made out of pudding. I have been all over my house trying to find better light and a more flattering angle, and this is as good as it gets. Ah well.
I should probably start spreading these out more, so everything isn't all clumped up in one place, but oh well.
I've also got to figure out how to embed my videos into this blog. I am so technically inept.
Products used:
L'Oreal Airwear Foundation
L'Oreal GlamBronze in Enchanting Sunrise
L'Oreal HIP loose pigment in Tenacious
Almay trio for Blues
CoverGirl eyeliner in Black Brown
L'Oreal HIP cream shadow in Unmistakable
Boots gold lipgloss from No. 7 kit
Too Faced Brownie Eyebrow pencil in Blondey
No children were actually harmed in the making of this video. One was infuriated by his father's refusal to let him watch Curious George all night, but any scarring was only psychic in nature.
Products used in tutorial:
CoverGirl eyeliner in Black Brown
Boots eyeshadow from makeup kit No. 7
Lancome Artliner in Iced Carob
Maybelline Full n' Soft mascara in Very Black
Rimmel blush in Pink Rose
CoverGirl clear brow gel
Products used:
Nyx lip liner in Auburn
Nyx goddess lip gloss in Plush Red
Unless you already have six, in which case, fourteen is an awful lot.
I have one child. One. I have thirteen fewer children than the woman in the link above. I had seven fewer developing at once. And I am five years older than she. Holy cats. I cannot even imagine. I remember how uncomfortable it was to have that singular sensation shoving aside my kidneys, kicking at my lungs, and doing his darnedest to push apart my ribcage. Where in heaven do you fit eight babies inside a normal human being's body?! Yeowch!
That said, I am more interested in the hullaballoo surrounding the multiple birth, than the birth itself. Modern science can do amazing things with the body. I have been very interested in the number of comments from reproductive-rights proponents, stating that the woman should have been forced to selectively abort the viable embryos she'd had implanted. Several women have howled out that the mother should have selectively aborted or been forced to abort "for the sake of the children." Think of the chil'ren!
Ladies, wanting to have a choice of whether or not to have an abortion involves having the choice NOT to have an abortion. If I know I am carrying Godzilla in my womb, and I choose not to abort him, I apologize in advance that he is going to stomp on your city, but that's my choice. That's the joy of reproductive rights. You don't get to selectively force abortions, just like you don't get to selectively refuse them.
Personally, I think you have to be mental to be a single parent of six and purposefully go knock yourself up, but it's not much different from women who are single parents of multiple children, who continue to have unprotected sex. I'm sorry for the children, but you can't force sterilization either.
So, welcome to the world all you tiny, squishy babies. More room on the outside, you'll find. I hope you're healthy and happy, and I hope you weren't born into some nefarious scheme (which is my sick, gut feeling about this one. God, I hope I'm wrong.)
In the entertainment industry, unless you are a particularly gifted talent (or a man), your body is your traded commodity. Let's face it, Jessica Alba wouldn't be working in Hollywood if her lips were less lush, or her hips less alluring. You don't see Kathy Bates commanding the salary of her more sylphlike peers. Jennifer Aniston didn't land the plum roles until she whittled 30lbs off her already small frame, much like Tina Fey got no airtime on SNL until she slimmed down. Fey even wrote this into an arc on 30 Rock, addressing the fact that there are no average sized women on television, only super-svelte or the Snapple lady.
Discussing the weight gain of the Girlie Show star, Jenna, network exec, Jack Donaghy, commands, "She has to lose 30lbs or gain 60. Anything in between has no place on television."
I come out of the entertainment industry, so I know what the specs are and I know how conformity is valued as a commodity, and how one step off the mark can send you sprawling over the edge of a cliff as a hundred girls more willing to do the crunches and miss the meals elbow you aside for their own shot at stardom. Is it fair? Is it right? It's business. I mean, good lord, Britney Spears' comeback was based solely, and I do mean solely, on the state of her abs. Who cares about her state of mind? She looks hot again.
I'll show you my age as well as my size (I wear a 14): Remember Designing Women? Remember that Linda Bloodworth Thompson wrote an episode specifically to deal with Delta Burke's unprecedented weight gain? Remember its title? They Shoot Fat Women, Don't They. Yes, Virginia, they do shoot fat women. You know who else they shoot? Average sized women. And very thin women. And perfectly sized women. Since you can't win, you might as well be the size you want to be.
BUT. I work in corporate America. My job has specs. If I do not meet those specs, or if I make sudden, drastic, distracting changes to the way I deliver my work I will be under great scrutiny. I have been there. I have been in both places.
I have had a producer tutting over my upper arm size, and I have had a boss tutting over inconsistency. Both of them were right because both of them were trying to sell a product and make a profit, and my part of the machine was breaking down. I didn't get hired as an actress so that I could afford bigger pizzas. I got hired as an actress when I fit a specific list of characteristics. And when I couldn't wear white bike shorts without looking like I was smuggling cottage cheese, I couldn't do my job. I got hired as a model when my measurements fit the dress. When I could not wear the dress, I could not do my job. (I wasn't Beverly Johnson, demanding that they split it down the back, you know.)
So while I feel for Jennifer Love Hewitt, and Jessica Simpson, and Delta Burke, and Karolina Kurkova, and Tyra Banks, and every other woman in the public eye who has, or ever will have her hips judged by the masses, I recognize that these women made their names with their hips, thighs, breasts, lips, abs, butts and all-around beauty. Do they deserve a shredding in the press? No. Should they remember that they are filling a role and are getting paid to look a certain way, and shouldn't be surprised when the well dries up because they no longer fill that role? Yes.
Jewel Staite, who worked on one of my favorite Joss Whedon shows and on one of my husband's favorite Sci-Fi shows, discussed this in one of her Myspace blogs, and I'll have to look up the link later. Someone asked her about her size and she answered with much duh. She said that it was her job to look a certain way, so she made sure she looked that way. She gets paid a nice salary to do those crunches. Tiny Jenna Fischer has said similar things about conforming to a Hollywood standard. (Why does it seem like the actresses who can really act are the ones who get it, but not necessarily the ones who... Never mind.)
So what am I saying? I'm saying, Jessica, honey, you look good to me, but if you want to keep looking good to the people who have kept you in your extensions and hellishly-expensive-but-still-ugly pants, you're going to have to drop a few pounds. Choose whichever one makes you happy, the workouts, wooden food, and wonderful salary based on your dazzling Daisy Dukes, or the cheesecake and a far reduced earning power to go along with your Bermuda shorts. I'm with you either way. My Bermuda shorts and I feel your pain, and we have your back.
Today I did two things I have not done since Junior High: Found it necessary to leave the premises to change my clothes, and bought courderoy trousers.
I've lost the teeniest bit of weight, so I decided to wear the tan trousers I've been holding back on. Why not? Cute pants. Feeling sassy. Oh my word. I'll tell you why not. Because Biology loves a good laugh. Thank jebus I had my grandfather's fleece vest with me, so I could hang that over my shortness and hide the shame.
Alas, I have not done laundry and did not have time to wash and dry my other office-ready trousers, so I ran to Kohl's where I ended up buying a pair of Army green cords. People. Soft. So soft. Why haven't I had any cords before now? What happened that I have been missing this soft, warm comfort all this time?
I'll tell you what: Courderoy knickers.
When I was in 7th Grade, I thought it would be a good idea to have courderoy knickers with a matching vest, and my mother happily obliged with a camel colored set. I wore these with a white turtleneck, white tights, dark brown belt, and dark brown ballet flats. And a beret. And I went to school dressed like this, as though I were the casual version of Little Lord Fauntleroy. In 7th Grade. Children are evil.
But today I have embraced the cord and am happily seated, secure in the knowledge that even if anything else makes it through to the pants, these are dark enough and thick enough that I won't have the same problem I had with the tan dress trousers.
I went to the store specifically to make this purchase, but I really didn't want to be seen doing it. So I wound my way through clothing, shoes, and lip gloss before heading to the back. I spotted my prize, snatched it up, then turned it so that no one could see the front, and clutched it close to my body. Then I went through the self-checkout line before racing to my car, and tearing into my brand new Britney Spears cd like a rat through a cheese wrapper. Gimme! Gimme more!
Circus. And in the words of the Pop Princess herself, "Oh mah gawd, y'all!" This is a damned good album. I clarify that to say, this is a damned good dance album, and I don't mind telling you that If You Seek Amy may very well be my new favorite song.
So there's all you need to know about my musical taste, right?
Why is it good, though? I was asking myself that question. Would these songs have been just as good if sung by an artist with fewer...issues? Because, honestly, I feel like I am exploiting a little developmentally delayed girl by buying Britney's album, but where else am I going to get a straight fix of explosive pop rhythms like this? No one else does Britney but Britney. And what does Britney do?
Britney wears dance music like Giselle Bunchen wears bras. She is the perfect model for dance. Her voice is an odd mix of growl and kewpie doll, and somehow she manages to hold her own without ever being overpowered by the thump and throb of the music behind her, and without ever feeling the need to compete. She just sings it.
Maybe it is because she isn't quite right, so it goes completely over her head, but Britney is never intimidated or even pulsed by the beat. She knows her job is to sing. She sings. When the song calls for cheeky, she gives you cheeky. When the song calls for angry, she gives you angry. When the song calls for sweet--the child can't really carry a pretty tune, but there is something in her voice that works, and she is the ultimate clothes hanger for musical emotion.
I don't believe for a second that she understands half of what she is singing, but she doesn't need to as long as she's got Larry Rudolph instructing in her headphones, "Okay, Bit-bit, this one is sad. Can you be sad?"
I love it. And now that it is safely in my cd player and no one can see it, I don't mind telling you how awesome it is to car dance down the road, singing along to Kill the Lights.
Advice: Always read the care tag in your clothes before you go merrily tossing them into the dryer, else your perfectly fitted trousers might end up not so perfectly fitted.
I am in the growing out stages of an unfortunate hair incident that happened over a year ago now. In January of last year, I got a notion that I needed a perm. Don't ask me why. I don't know. I just did. I do know. I was looking at this woman at work, who has mounds and mounds of curly hair and I thought, "That is exactly what I wish my head looked like." So I tried to have the look chemically reproduced.
Alas, I ended up with chemically induced alopecia instead. At least, that was the doctor's diagnosis. In lay terms, I had a good quarter of my hair burned off, and had chemical burns on my scalp. You can imagine what my remaining hair looked like. It looked like cotton candy.
I had to wait until March to cut it because of the bald spots. Hair had to grow back in enough to cover my scalp before I could have myself scalped down into a pixie. Then I had to grow it and cut it, grow it and cut it, until all the perm was gone and the hair was healthy again. It was about August before that happened.
Now it is growing out time again, and I am really, really hating this part. This is the part where the longest length ends right above my earlobe, so tucking it behind the ear gives a weird poof (and depending on what my bangs are doing, I resemble 80s David Bowie), and bringing it forward means I look like a little Dutch boy. Either way, not optimal.
Can we bring back the hat as office wear? Please?
I wasn't going to write about this, but since several people have specifically asked me about it, here is what I think of Michelle Obama's inauguration dress:
Michelle Obama is a very attractive woman. She has a lovely figure and beautiful skin. I can only imagine that in a fit of pique, Cindy McCain set fire to the dress Michelle originally intended to wear, leaving her with nothing suitable. Being a kind soul, I imagine that Barbara Bush magnanimously loaned Michelle her own outfit. It just didn't work at all for me.
And Jill Biden, no. No, ma'am. Bitch boots have their place, and it is not at the inauguration of a President. And especially not with that coat. No. Trust, you do not have the knees for it.
We'll see how they turn out for the balls.
You have to know that I am a tiny-flag waving patriot, who gets ridiculously choked up at the National Anthem, who does a little chest thumping on Memorial & Veteran's Days and the 4th of July, and who loves making jokes about tea in the harbor. Every four years, I don't care who wins the election, I get misty over Inauguration Day. I am proud of our system of government that allows for a peaceful transition of power, and that has done 44 times. I am proud of our nation's people. who show restraint and pull together to back our leaders into a hope of success, whether they voted for them or not. I am proud to be an American.
Congratulations to President-Elect Barack Obama, I am excited to see what your administration will bring. Thank you to President George W. Bush, I appreciate the service you did for your country.
Bring on the fireworks! And cake! We should totally have cake.
Stories are now breaking about Brittany Catanzaro, the ferry captain who steered her boat in to help retrieve passengers from Hudson River downed US Airways flight 1549. At nineteen, Brittany is not only the youngest, but is also the first female ferry captain on the NY Waterways.
Obviously, this is quite a feat! You know what stuck out for me in her biography? She acknowledges that her age and gender make her unique among her peers, but she praises the older men in her business as having helped train her.
"Any guff from fellow captains?" She is asked. Her answer? "A lot of the older guys trained me. They’ve known me since I was little, because I’ve been around. Our boat was at the old Jamestown, which is where the Port Imperial Marina is now."
And when asked about how her passengers react, she says, "There are people who say, 'Oh, my God, there’s a girl driving. Oh, my God, that’s so good!'"
Isn't that nice to read? A young woman in a profession she loves, doing work that makes her happy, surrounded by people who seem to be happy for her, and working along with her. I like that.
I belong to a makeup community and through it found Leesha, who does makeup tutorials on YouTube. Check her out. She has some tutorials that are very club, and others that are great for everyday. I learned about using wet shadows from her, and have enjoyed watching her techniques. I love her voice! She's got this sweet, lulling, childlike voice, and it's fun to listen to.
Leesha gives great instruction, always details and describes the products used, and adds links so you can find what you like. Go look!
About cold sores.
I got my first cold sore when I was in first grade. It ran from the inside left of my lower lip, all the way down past the dip between my lip and chin. It was about half an inch wide, and an inch long. And it was gross. It started as a series of funny little blisters that reminded me of those fancy goldfish with the big blistery looking eyes. It itched and it tingled, and I reeked of Campho-pheniq. When it started to scab over and heal, it was horribly, horribly painful. It bled, children ran from me. I cried. And I was terrified that it was never going to stop growing, and soon I would have a scab that covered my entire face.
It never grew that big, but it did scar, and I do have a visible mark left in the dip between lip and chin. And since that time, at least once a year, I feel that familiar itching and watch in mute horror as the blisters appear. The good news is, I know how to treat the rotten things now. The bad news is, there isn't a cure.
I swear by <a href="http://www.abreva.com">Abreva.</a> I spackle myself with the paste as soon as I feel a cold sore coming on, and am generally spared the overwhelming grossness of a sore gone un- or under-treated. I ran out (I've had the same little tube for a couple of years) and could only find Releev at the grocery store. It turns your lip brown, so I am looking luscious. I have half a brown lower lip. I will be going to find some more Abreva after work. That way, I can have a white pastey looking lip. Mmm.
So the biggest problem is that cold sores are a member of the Herpes Virus family. If the Herpes Virus was the Carter family, Genital Herpes would be Billy, and Herpes Simplex would be Jimmy. You know Billy got around and had a lot more fun. Jimmy was just a victim of himself. Abreva.com says, "Unfortunately, once you contract the virus, your body's immune system cannot completely get rid of the infection. So it remains in your body, usually hidden in a nerve located near your cheekbone. During a cold sore outbreak, typically triggered by factors such as sun exposure, stress, fatigue or hormones, the virus 'wakes up' and eventually becomes a visible and highly contagious sore, usually on or around the lip area." Kind of like Jimmy Carter and foreign policy. God bless him.
And Abreva.com has a great visual aid chart of the Life of a Cold Sore, which includes Tingle, Blister, Ulcer, Scabbing, and Healing stages, with a lovely characterization of the "golden-brown crust" that appears to form a scab. And now I am thinking of McDonald's apple pies, and I may never be able to eat them again. Bad for my love of apple pies, good for my hips.
Basically, if you've got the Herp, you're up a creek. Nothing you can do. But you can get some cold comfort from your sores if you treat them. Kind of like handing Billy Carter a beer.
Dainty Doll is a small line of cosmetics developed by Nicola Roberts, better known as the really pale, ginger one from Girls Aloud. As part of a television series focusing on four of the five girls, Nicola challenged herself to create a cosmetic line for very fair-skinned women.
I was really excited when I saw the range. Nicola is ghostly, and during her segments of the program, talked about how hard it was to find a foundation that didn't leave her looking like an Oompa Loompa. I was trying to buy the stuff before Jelly Pong Pong (the company producing the line) even had it on the market. And then it sold out immediately. I got on the mailing list, so when it became available again, I bought some.
It took about 8 days from my order to get here from England, so I feel like that's a good shipment time. My foundation came in last night, and first I was very pleased by the packaging. I love good packaging, and the little foundation pot comes in an adorable box. I was surprised at how small the pot was, but then, you get less than an ounce of foundation, so I shouldn't have expected much.
Day One
The Good:
The color is amazing. I bought Ivory, the mid-range color, and it blends into my skin perfectly. I have not had such a good color match since I went to Prescriptives. I'm not sure I even had as good a match then.
The fragrance is light and not unpleasant. Even fragrance free makeups are going to have some odor to them. Fragrance free just means no perfumes added anyway. The foundation does have a very slight makeup-y smell, but it goes away quickly.
The foundation's wearing weight is wonderful! It feels like there is nothing on my face. Even the whipped mousse foundations usually have some weight to them, but this is surprisingly light.
The Questionable:
Dainty Doll's foundation comes in a blob that really resembles silly putty, and that was a little off-putting. It also has no applicator, so you're down to your fingers or, as I prefer, a foundation brush.
I was surprised at how creamy the foundation was, and decided to apply sparingly. I ended up going back over with a heavier application. While I like the creamy texture, it goes on a bit like theatrical makeup. That is, it seems to layer over skin rather than clinging to it. This means that it will wipe or smear easily before it has had a chance to dry (normally I would use more loose powder to set the foundation, but I wanted a truer test of the cosmetic itself.) It also means that other colors will cling to it.
That's actually a good thing. I ended up using half the eyeshadow and blush I normally do, because the colors really grabbed onto the foundation. I was a little irritated with the way my eyeliner went on.
I put the foundation on my eyelids before I knew how creamy it was. When I drew my eyeliner on over it, my eyeliner went on like a streak of tar. The good news was I could blend it out easily. The bad news was, it smeared like crazy, so I was a little raccoonish before I got out the q-tips and loose powder. I ended up using an eyeshadow brush to dust loose powder over the eyeliner before I even put on my eyeshadow.
The Bad:
I have been wearing the foundation for about 4 hours now. The lower half of my face (cheeks, chin, jawline) looks great and smooth. The foundation leaves your skin feeling very soft, by the way. My T-zone definitely needs freshening. The foundation is separating in the space between my eyebrows--my oiliest skin--and is a little flaky on my forehead, where my skin is driest. I would like to have a compact so that I could touch it up, but I would not like to pay for another jar of the stuff right now.
Day Two: After wearing the makeup for two days, I think it is nice. I'm not really a foundation person, so I won't be using it for daily wear, but will definitely use it for special events.
All in all, I like it. I haven't been itching. My skin, even though it goes on like theatrical makeup, can breathe and feels fresh. The color is so fantastic, I'm amazed. It is light and gives decent coverage. (Let's face it, with a shade that pale, you aren't going to get a lot of coverage unless you're willing to look like a harlequin.) It did not spackle my wrinkles, but it also did not sink down into my pores. The overall effect is very good, and I would suggest it to all my pale sisters.
