Thursday, March 21, 2013

lemme peep that medicine cabinet

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Some might say I'm a bit high maintenance.  With a morning shower and all that I take about an hour to get ready.  I got some luscious locks, take time on my make up, and even though my closet is a sea of black, white and oxblood (yes, I like those bougy names for colors) I always find myself debating outfit combinations.  Last weekend when my bff came to visit she was ready in about twenty minutes (and popped out lookin' damn fly) and spent the rest of the hour playing with my dog on my bed as she waited.  Point is, I am a fancy bitch with fancy problems.  And all of that is very clear if you just peep my medicine cabinet.
In this very sacred cabinet (which is gigantic compared to most people's bathroom space) I have make up, bath products, hair oils, vitamins, samples, whim beauty purchases from Whole Foods, and many face washes.  It may seem like too much but I use all of it at some point and if I'm not it has pretty packaging so shut up.  
I think you can tell a lot about a person from their medicine cabinet.  Like who they are as a person or what they value.  Kinda.  If you looked in mine you could tell that having clear skin and hair that shines like the ocean is very important to me.  Also, that I probably have an unhealthy obsession with perfume.  You would also be able to tell that I get into really intense vitamin stages and then give up before the bottle is halfway empty (I blame all these damn articles on the benefits of juicing and vitamins and Gwenyth Paltrow).  It doesn't just go for me though.  If you looked in my college roommate's cabinet you could tell that she never washed or moisturized her face because according to her "I don't have the money for that kinda shit!"(keep in mind she had plenty of money to spend on a George Foreman grill and the various disgusting meat that went on said grill, which I also never saw her wash).  I bet you feel a lot better about your regimen now.  Homegirl was crusty.  I never once saw her wash off eye make up.  She just reapplied, reapplied, reapplied for two years!
But, I digress!   I'm not just interested in what I keep stocked in my cabinet, I wanna see everyone's!  Maybe it's to find out about new products and perfumes or maybe it's just to be a creep and find out what kind of weird rash cream you have going on.  And I know I'm not the only one.  There is a section of a very fabulous/popular beauty blog that interviews people about their medicine cabinets!  People out there are freaks just like me, see!  It says a lot about the person.  You see these posh people and open up their cabinets, and goddamnit would ya look at that!  Their cabinets are just as posh as they are!  Going back to my crusty roommate, you could look at her and know she wasn't packing fancy creams or lotions.  The only thing a stranger would expect to find in her cabinet was sandpaper and the black chalk she used to rim her eyelids.  Okay, I hear it.  I'm a mean girl.  
However, I really do think your stuff (specifically your grooming stuff) says a lot about you.  I even think medicine cabinets can even indicate a life change.  Flashback to nine months ago, I'm certain my boyfriend's cabinet was much sadder than it is now.  Today, it has blue algae face moisturizer, fancy shaving cream and tea tree oil face pads!  Men don't know about tea tree oil!  That is until they get themselves a fancy ass bitch to tell them all about it.  

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

really, why do we care?


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After reading the latest headline of former child star turned professional train wreck Lindsay Lohan accepting a plea deal to go to mandatory "lock down" rehab, I instantly starting making judgments about this girl.  Okay, maybe at this point they aren't judgments because she has a series of screw ups and consistent "eff yous" to the law that I feel like I have a pretty good stack of paparazzi photos and court documents to prove this girl kinda isn't great at life.  But it got me thinking about why we are so invested in these celebrity's lives.  Why we care so much when one of them wears something awful, says something offensive or kinda sorta really breaks the law.  But it isn't everyone who cares so much.  It's mostly women.  I have never been around a group of straight men and the conversation steers to celebrity gossip.  Okay, correction--I've never been around a group of straight men and the conversation steers to celebrity gossip that does not entail a sex tape or some upskirt vag pics.  

So what's the deal ladies?  Why do we care so much?  I do tend to believe that women like to gossip and chatter way more than men do.  And this isn't me just making sweeping judgments   I have sat on my bed with a friend scrolling through a gossip website laughing, making fun of and assuming a lot about these people's characters who I don't know even a little bit.  I also constantly see and hear women talking smack or repeating stories about someone they know, kinda know, or love to hate.  It's kind of become who we are as women.  We gossip.  A lot.  In all forms, in all walks of life, in any place.  You can be riding the bus hearing women exchanging the latest story about a fellow housekeeper on their morning commute (not racist because it's true) or in the bathroom of a restaurant and hear girls ridiculing their sole friend who was left at the table's outfit.  
I wouldn't make this such an issue or ponder over it too much because most gossip (at least the celebrity kind) can be pretty harmless but I think it's getting to the point where it's not.  Women are judged far more harshly than men are in society.  Just look at how they are treated in the public eye.  Everyone knows and recognizes the mugshots of lady celebs post their bad girl behavior, but did you know that Josh Brolin got a DUI like a couple months ago?  Probably not, because no one really cares and most girls probably weren't talking about it.  
My point is that it seems that we ladies can kind of be our own downfall.  We talk a lot of about other girls to the point where it becomes impossible to separate the person from the slip ups.  But men don't do that to one another.  At least not as much in my opinion.  I don't like that we as women have stopped supporting each other and started ticking off reasons to hate or make fun of one another.  
I do think a lot of why it is acceptable to talk bad about women more than men is because it is more acceptable for men to be bad.  They're just branded "bad boys".  And it's not a bad thing.  It becomes sexy, mysterious and even an image that can be sought after.  But women are generally expected to behave a certain way and if they don't, they're in trouble.  There is no "bad girl" image that is flattering or complimentary for women.  Usually it's just an implication that everyone thinks you need help or are being kind of a whore.  
I guess what I'm trying to say is, we as women should really cut each other some slack.  Maybe society has wired us to think that we should pass judgement on girls who make bad decisions and laugh at them or show no sympathy for their perils, but girl you know there was a night (or several nights) where you were doing something where someone walked by and muttered "oh my god did you see that girl?".  Whether it be puking in a trashcan in public, getting pulled over by the police, or wearing something that left little to the imagination   Point is, we've all done something that we would probably judge ourselves for, so shut up.  Except when it comes to Lindsay.  I think we can all agree that homegirl has had enough chances. 

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

instagram life, lately

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gold glitter nails that made me so happy but also destroyed my nails; straight flexin'
summer apparently has hit los angeles; oh kimye spawn
apartment hunting and ready!; babygirl has hit los angeles
our essential morning coffees; huntington library
huntington gardens; olvera st
shop ladies; our laughing photos look staged but i swear they're not
st. patrick's day slayed me; much needed post-drinking day ice cream
so long my best friend! see you in May

recent realizations

1.  Boys do creepy stalker like things all the time.  Maybe this isn't so much of a realization, but rather a thing that keeps coming up among my friends and I.  Some dudes just never seem to get when it's over and time to give up.
2.  When your boyfriend and best friend meet and like each other, there is nothing greater!
3.  I never quite feel prepared for spring/summer.  I always seem to have plenty of clothes and stuff for the cold months but I am never in the mood to wear a tank top and shorts, sorry.
4.  Beyonce can kinda rap and I am into it.  Dare I say the return of Sasha Fierce?

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

spot on: how i am justifying using a medication that could be melting my insides, or something

.A little background: I am a 24 year old girl who has been struggling with acne for over 10 years. That's right ladies and gentleman, I have had a pimple companion on my face, back, chest, arm or wherever ever since I can remember. Just as soon as I thought I was acne free, I would feel something creeping in on my forehead. Which really taught me to never celebrate early, for anything (including Lakers games, which increasingly annoys my boyfriend when I am saying "let's see, it's not over yet" when they have a 10 point lead with forty seconds left).
Anyways, like most people with this problem, I have tried everything.  Every cream, every pill, ever zapper, every peel, every wash, every diet.  Baby, I've even had needles stuck all over my body and drank a disgusting tea for a month just to be blemish free.  So please, don't stop me halfway through my story and say "Oh, well my sister gave up chocolate and avocados and all of her pimples disappeared!" Shut up.  That's not happening for me, so please keep your stupid advice to yourself.  Stupid.
The last lovely option that I finally gave into was Accutane.  Oh, you may have heard of it.  It's a pill that was so dangerous just a few years ago that they stopped prescribing it so that it could be reformulated because it was causing so many horrific side effects.  And it's also the only known cure fore acne.  Cure! 
I used Accutane for five months and was yanked off of it right before I was supposed to start my final month by a doctor who I don't regularly see (my regular doctor decided to pop out a baby halfway through my treatment.  How dare she!).  He freaked out when I told him I had some back pain and was always tired and told me that I shouldn't be on it and it's too dangerous.  I walked out of the doctor's office that day, crying.  Crying because I really thought this was my cure, my savior, my last hope!  And here comes Dr. Handsome-know-it-all telling me I'm too good for this pill.  I can do better.  I don't need all it's abuse.  But I can handle the abuse!  I want it!  We are meant to be together!
So it has been four months.  Four months that I have been off of this pill, and guess what?  All the acne is starting to come back.  Because I didn't finish the course I was supposed to.  And now, I'm going back to that sweet poison.  
In all honesty and jokes aside, I am terrified.  Being on Accutane really isn't fun.  You feel tired, without appetite, your joints feel stiff and sore, you get weird white marks on your arms, you have to take a pregnancy and blood test every month just to stay on the medication, and all the chapstick in the world can't help the dryness your lips experience.  Which especially sucks for a girl like me who has clown sized lips.  Also, I know all of this is sounding incredibly sexy, so please try to contain yourself.  
People reading this who have or haven't struggled with this problem might think that it isn't worth it.  That the risks outweigh the benefits, and you might be right.  I have read about a lot of people who really regret taking the drug.  But I also know of a lot of people who have been very happy to take it and it has drastically improved their lives.  Yes, their lives.  I refuse to be one of those people where something about my image bothers me so much that I obsess over it, but I'm also not going be one to sit back and just bask in hopelessness and self-pity.  And on those days where I feel super shitty and a touch of hopelessness does creep in, I just remind myself that even Beyonce gets acne from time to time.  Meaning the queen of my universe and I share similar problems.  And that tends to make me feel better.


Thursday, March 7, 2013

a hairy topic

Okay, let's get down to business.  This is a topic that most people are uncomfortable to talk about, but honestly comes up ALL the time between my girlfriends and myself.  I know I'm not the only lady talking about it, because Hellogiggles just had a piece on this down there situation.  Yes ladies (and maybe gentleman? I'm not sure if any dudes care what I have to say) I'm talking about landscaping.  Or lack thereof.  
As a woman (an adult woman) I am completely not into the idea of women having bare lady parts.  It's none of my business with what you do with your whoha and honestly if you feel empowered by a vajay that is bare and bedazzled be my guest! But to me if women start walking around as completely hairless creatures they start to look something like a pre-pubescent 12 year-old.  You know, that weird age where you starting to get boobs but nothing else has really happened?  Yeah, that's weird.  
Like the Hellogiggles writer, JC Coccoli, I am a believer that ummm you have hair down there for a reason.  It belongs there.  And waxing it into the shape of a heart, your boyfriends initials, or screaming "take it off!" to your waxer is a bit strange.  Yes, we do a ton of things that are unnatural.  Like put glitter on our nails and wear orange lipstick.  But this is different.  I think it says so much more about you than the questionable make up you choose to wear.  It's far more intimate and I think women and their bodies should be celebrated as is.  Not with a ton of waxing, plucking, airbrushing or adorning.  I'm all for hygene and keeping things "in line" so to speak, but not to the point where it is undoing what separates you, an adult female, from a Justin Beiber superfan.  Physiologically, of course.  
I think it says something about our society when women are being told that everything that makes you into a woman needs to be undone in order to be celebrated.  Pubic hair isn't okay, aging gracefully with wrinkles is a no no, and being strong and outspoken can have you labeled as a "bitch".  I, for one, am not down with that. 
I will say that all women should have their vaginas looking exactly like they want them to.  If you want it to be bare, hell go bare!  But please, make sure you're doing it for yourself.  Don't start extracting hair and other parts of your body just because the person you are with is attracted to that.  Because really, if the man you are with is sickened by something natural you should probably be sickened by him.  

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

how i wish i reached for the carrots

I'm going to be perfectly honest with you:  I love food.  Blah, blah sure everyone loves food, but I really have a love affair.  Ever since I was a little baby my mother told me when I would eat I would be so silent and look at my food with deep devotion and love.  Does this make me glutenous and disgusting even from the age of diapers and pacifiers?  Maybe!  But food has always made me happy.  I don't really eat all the bad stuff, but I love that food is so magical.  It literally can transform your insides and outsides, depending on what you eat.  
Now, that being said, I sometimes truly do not give an eff.  I will be super good and proper and abide by every rule while using my "Lose It!" app (seriously you guys, get this app it will make you stop saying 'I don't even eat that much!' after you see how that mess all adds up) and then I'll just be typing away at my desk and get the urge to get up, buy a big cookie and down it within four minutes.  Its that simple.  I can't turn down a cookie.  I can't turn down a cake.  I can definitely turn down potato chips, sandwiches, fries, etc.  But when it comes to them sweets, I'm a goner.
A woman at my office CONSTANTLY brings in sweets.  Everything from cookies to donut holes, this lady is the pusher for glucose.  And every time she sounds the alarm of "there are some sweets in the kitchen!" I let out the biggest groan.  Why?  Because I know my body has no control.  Even if my mind is saying "no! don't do it!  be one of those girls who reaches for carrots when she has a craving!" my body walks to the kitchen in a zombie like fashion, reaching for a cookie and a glass of skim milk.  
But any time I feel even a little bad about stuff like this, I remind myself that I am good 90% of the time, I'm not in a zombie love affair with drugs or alcohol so a cookie is cool, right?  Plus, this whole new three days at the gym thing has me feeling like I deserve a whole lot more than I do.  But I'm just gonna let my mind think that--my body doesn't have to know.