Is this #selfcare?
I have a really beautiful & kind friend who I barely know, but whose Instagram I lovingly follow. Her name is Natalia, and she is very into being healthy in your mind and in your spirit. I try to like everything she posts because she’s a gift to humankind, and the most genuine and enjoyable person to be around. She encourages meditation and positive thinking and lives a healthy life with a healthy diet.
I’m not healthy. I mean, maybe I would be if I didn’t have such poor, disordered eating. I also do not think positive thoughts. Every time I leave my house, I think things like, “I bet I’ll fall and break open my head today,” or “Maybe my condo will have exploded by the time I get home this evening.” I replace optimism with heavy skepticism, and I don’t trust anyone or anything and I don’t believe in god; we are all going to die and nothing matters.
But last week, after a day that had me nervously crying at work, I decided to make use of the beauty products I got from Amazon Dot Com and have some Natalia-inspired #selfcare. Like any self-caring girl would do, I put on book one of Game of Thrones on Audible and began my beauty regime while Sandor Clegane told Sansa Stark the story of when his brother melted his face.
I started with a sort-of hot shower, where I washed my newly-scaly head (don’t know what that’s about, will handle at a later date) with a Voodoo Bamboo Charcoal Shampoo Bar. It is crumbling to pieces, but I have yet to throw it away because I deeply hate buying shampoo, and the only other one I currently have is a beautiful pot of Lush’s Big that my best friend bought me from Japan. I can’t get rid of it, and I definitely can’t afford it, so I’m using the remnants of this shampoo bar and it’s fine. I paired it with a Charcoal & Rose Clay Spa Bar, which is similarly just a sliver left from more prosperous times.
Before my shower, I strategically laid out items that I could easily grab without having to step in any cat litter, thus ruining my #selfcare and spoiling any chance of nirvana. I hopped over to my bed, wiped off my feet, said hello to the wart blossoming at my sole, and got to work. Using my Rubbermaid dishpan filled with hot-hot-hot water and some Eden & Farrow salts, I soaked my feet until they were pruny and the water was cold.
While that whole thing was going on and Eddard watched the King’s Tournament, I laid back and let a TonyMoly mask soak in. (The one for “Skin Soothing” because I had previously popped every pimple on my face, including the ones that were NOT READY.) I texted my husband to ask if he remembered to turn on the security camera at work, then got on Twitter and tweeted about what I was doing, read a couple Refinery29 articles, and thought about how I don’t think I’ll ever be a successful writer. Huh! I tried to close my eyes and listen to my audiobook, but then some of the face mask dripped into my mouth, so I just sat at the edge of my bed and watched my cat in his cat tower as he got high off of catnip.
When I sufficiently soaked in fluids, I used a dish towel and rubbed a Callous Eliminator on my soggy-ass feet. This shit is especially insidious. It goes on and you’re like, “Yeah, okay, that’s fine,” but then after five minutes, you start to notice a smell. I got to work with a foot file, and oh my god, there is nothing more foul and yet so, so satisfying. #Selfcare should not make your eyes water and your nose crinkle, and yet there I sat, my foot close to my face because I couldn’t put glasses on because of the face mask, and I scrubbed and gagged and scrubbed and gagged until there was so much dead skin floating in the pan that it looked like a bottle of Goldschläger. When the deed was done, I loaded my feet with my favorite foot cream in the whole world, O’Keefe’s for Healthy Feet. It is so powerful that it turns any loose skin into a soft powder, which is a neat effect I just really love.
For my subpar, oblong face, I peeled off the facemask, washed it, then patted it dry like a stately queen. I didn’t have cotton balls, so I used a makeup applicator to put rose petal witch hazel on my face. Some redness, but less so. While that was drying, I used Diva Stuff Lip Scrub in Strawberry Frozen Yogurt (yes, really and also: why?) and showed my lips who is boss (me!). I have this really bad habit of biting my lips at every moment each day, so a lip scrub is probably ill-advised. Some light bleeding occurred. My lips got so big that I sent a pic to Megan likening them to Kylie Jenner’s. After the sugar shrapnel was removed from my face, I finished it off with Pond’s Dry Face Cream, which my old and mean grandma still uses to this day.
Although normally reserved for tattoo healing, I allowed myself some AmLactin Ultra for my boobs, which have been looking a little tired lately. As expected, they still looked tired after the lotion was absorbed, but you work with what you have.
I took a breath to pretend I had a flatter stomach, then turned and looked at my raw-chicken-soft body in the mirror. Do you know Kim Kardashian, like, flays her skin every day (or something) to get her face to look beautiful? Do you think you could do that at home? Alas, after two hours of work, the beauty regime was finished, but the #selfcare was not.
I mean, I ate Taco Bell and watched Sisters. Then the #selfcare was finished.