Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Wednesday Wisdom You Won't Get from Mom

These are the sayings that I see as I look around my office from bulletin board to bulletin board. I hope you find them inspiring.

"Some people are born to be adults. Others have adulthood thrust upon them."

"She liked imaginary men best of all."

"Inner beauty won't get you laid."

"I will not obsess. I will not obsess. I will not obsess."

"It will be a great day when schools get all the money they need and the air force has to hold a bake sale to buy a bomber."

"Some days it really isn't worth chewing through the restraints."

"I am not like the others. My strangeness is my strength."

"Sugar … prozac … coffee … Now I'll have a nice day."

"Mommy, when I grow up I want to help smash the white racist, homophobic, patriarchal bullshit paradigm, too!"

Take that, Victoria Principal!

Principal Secret discontinued my moisturizer, Time Release Moisture. Creamy but not greasy, with a decent SPF, I love the contents of that pink and white jar. Her newer products -- from her Advanced and Reclaim lines -- just don't do it for me, leaving my skin feeling tight.

When I was getting my spa facial last week, the cosmetologist told me how "really good" my skin looked and I should just "keep doing" what I've been doing. Much of the credit goes to my new dermatologist, and his antibiotic cream and his laser, but I also believe it's due in large part to my beloved Time Release Moisture.

I've tried countless other creams and they have all ended up on my nightstand so I can use them on my heels. (I have the most expensively moisturized heels in North America!) Until now. This lovely little purple jar from Kohl's Good Skin line seems to work almost as well as my Time Release Moisture, and better than some of the more expensive brands I've auditioned.

Since this isn't the perfect replacement, I'm planning on trying one more, a calming lotion by Aveeno. But at least now I can be confident that once I deplete that last lonely jar of Time Release Moisture, I won't automatically start looking like my portrait in the attic.