I have this thing where I believe that if I do everything my dermatologist tells me to do, I can look like her. It’s very motivational.
“Sure, Dr. K. I’ll use that face wash. Oh, I should use this lotion? How many times a day? Absolutely. And always wear sunscreen? Yes, yes, whatever you say. Now, what toothpaste do you use? And what do you eat? I’ll need a comprehensive list of every single food you’ve digested today. And what sort of lighting you have in your home. Where did you meet your husband? You have how many kids? Natural birth or C-section?”
Like I said: motivational. And even more delusional. Since I’m sort of this average-height white girl, and she’s a stunning, 6-foot tall black woman.
Now, I have friends who like to spend hours in the drugstore beauty aisles– smelling shampoos, conditioners, staring at all the tubes of lipstick. Clearly there are women in this world who will order sheep’s spleens or whatever to spread all over their faces, and we’re coming up on January, otherwise known as “The Time of the Year When Gyms Lock You into Legal Contracts More Binding than the Adhesive Used to Attach That Thing to Donald Trump’s Head.”
By the way, have you guys ever thought about the consequences of 24-hour gyms? Like– that at 2 am, there could be people working out? You’re stumbling home from the bar or sleeping or waking up your boyfriend to start a fight because he just did something mean in your dream, you know, normal people things, and around the corner in a gym someone is doing…I don’t know…pull-ups or push-downs or clown-clenches or whatever people do in gyms.
I don’t go to gyms.
The point is, we have a trillion-dollar beauty industry in this country because people believe. They believe in the power of transformation, in the ability of bottled little things to make us into more beautiful versions of ourselves, or perhaps other people entirely. We have a trillion-dollar workout industry in this country because we’re told that if we work hard enough, we will change, we will be better, life will be better, if we just do Gwyneth Paltrow’s exercise regimen we will have her money and her fame and her snooty-ass blog with its incomprehensible name and her parents and her childhood… I mean, to be fair, she appears to have really great relationships with both of her parents.
And I’m the same, I believe— I just prefer to use the power of my mind. I like to skip all the products and the workouts. That shit’s expensive and takes a lot of effort. My imagination, however, was exercised regularly as a child and is still in stellar shape.
So when I went to get my haircut this week, I took in this picture– my haircutter’s a great enabler, she’s always like, “We can totally make that happen for you!” And it might surprise some of you that now I look like this:
No big deal.