“You look tired means you look old.
And you look rested means you’ve had collagen.”

– Nathan Lane to Robin Williams in The Birdcage

Someone close to me called recently to let me in on a secret – she is going to have plastic surgery. Now, it’s a minor procedure – we’re not talking boob job – but she begged me not to tell ANYONE. Of course I agreed, but it made me wonder why she was so adamant. Did she think others would criticize her for being vain? Was she afraid the younger folk would say, “You’re old, so why bother?”

Which made me examine the dichotomy that exists in our society. We’re all supposed to be 5’10” blondes, tan (somehow without setting foot in the sun), tight-bodied, an unrealistic 118 lbs. with flawless skin and not a sag or wrinkle anywhere, no matter what your age. BUT if you choose to sneak in a little nip tuck to help you achieve that level of perfection, you’re scorned and marked with a scarlet letter. So others choose to ignore this unachievable level of perfection and let their hair go gray, allow gravity to take over and celebrate their changing bodies. These women are categorized as New Age kooks who obviously don’t care what they look like. Damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’ve watched the Celebrity Plastic Surgeries Gone Wrong shows on cable. Who could forget the photos of a botched Tara Reid or plastic surgery addict Jenny Lee who looks like a walking Barbie doll? We scorn them and make fun of them, but aren’t we the same people who created them? This is the same society who will scoff at Cher for having a nip tuck, but when the subject of abortion comes up will scream, “I can do what I want with my body!” I don’t get it. Maybe I’m not supposed to. I guess we can’t all be Joan Rivers who makes fun of herself for having so much work done. Will I still secretly sneer at the 40 year old blonde trainer at the gym who I know has had breast implants and regular Botox but looks amazing? Probably. But I hate her because we all want to be her. When will it be okay to just be our own imperfect selves? Sadly, not in my lifetime.

My mother-in-law called the other day.

“When are you going to start making a wrinkle cream?” she asked.

This surprised me. It means that possibly my mother-in-law is finally starting to take my business seriously. When someone asks, “What does Randy’s wife do?” the standard response is “Oh she has her own little business. That ‘all natural’ stuff. Ya know.” So perhaps by her asking me this question, it means she actually believes in what I’m doing. Gee, and it only took twelve years and worldwide distribution into 15 different countries….

“I won’t be making a wrinkle cream” I responded. “Why not?!” she demands. Well because we’re all about making real solution-based products that truly work and are good for your body. There is no cure for wrinkles. It’s the sad truth. Lots and lots of companies out there will try to tell you otherwise, but it’s just not true. You can make wrinkled skin look better by plumping it up, but it only lasts as long as you use the product. I’m certain this is not what she wanted to hear.

“The good news is there’s a much cheaper way of making your skin look better,” I proceeded. “Make sure you eat right – good whole natural and organic foods. Drink LOTS of water. And exercise to improve the circulation in your skin.” I could tell she was already bored with my answers. “That’s what everyone says,” she whines. Well, there’s probably a reason why everyone says this, but I hold that thought to myself and continue, “The other thing you can do is provide external hydration to your skin. Skin loves humidity.”

“I live in Florida,” she responds without adding the “duhhhh….”

“Yeah, I know you live in Florida” I tell her, “But you rarely go outside. You’re often inside with the air conditioner on. The air conditioner sucks the humidity out of the air and consequently out of your skin. Try putting a small humidifier in your room.” I continue to tell her the story of how scary my skin was looking earlier this winter. As soon as I put a humidifier in my bedroom, my skin almost instantly started to look better. Those little fine lines I was starting to see are gone. My skin has never gone through a winter looking this good. And the only thing I really changed was adding that humidifier.

“So you’re not going to make a wrinkle cream?” she asks after patiently listening to my story.

“No, I don’t think so.” I hear her sigh. I wonder if she was preparing to tell her friends that her daughter-in-law was working on a magical cure for wrinkles. Perhaps then making her son wealthy and soon retiring to Caymans. But alas, she must continue to tell them…only when asked….that I make “that all natural stuff.” Ya know.

I tried to tell myself it’s just that time of year. November in Pennsylvania can be pretty tough on your skin. Well, for that matter, so can December through March. The frigid outside air combined with dry interior environments can take a toll on your skin quickly. That’s what I told myself when I looked in the mirror yesterday morning.

Okay, I’m fighting a cold. And PMSing (a little too much info). But when I looked in the mirror before dragging myself into the shower, I was horrified. And it wasn’t the typical do-I-really-look-that-scary-in-the-morning horror. My skin looked like it had aged five years overnight. My dermatologists’ words from earlier this summer came flooding back to me, “stay out of the sun!” But I knew I couldn’t wake up to instant sun damage. There had to be something else going on. The skin under my eyes was crêpe-y and gaunt. Crows feet were forming at the corners of my eyes, and there was a crevice between my brows the size of the Grand Canyon. Thoughts of the big 4 – 0 looming on the horizon tortured my brain as I stepped into the warm steamy shower. “Okay, think this through,” I murmured to myself. “I know I’m dehydrated from the head cold. That’s a big part of this. And I haven’t exfoliated my skin in forever. It has been awfully cold and dry outside….” Thoughts of a friend from the gym who is my age and regularly gets Botox injections raced through my mind. NOOOO! I reached for my old terry washcloth and lathered it up with plain all natural bar soap. My skin was well-hydrated from having been in the warm water for a few minutes, so I proceeded to rub the soapy washcloth over my face using a small circular pattern. I wasn’t scrubbing – scrubbing is a bad thing. Just gently massaging the fabric over my skin. After thoroughly rinsing and breathing in some steam, I emerged and looked into the dreaded mirror once again. The water gods had done me justice. My skin looked pink and plump. The wrinkles were gone and my pores looked happy. I quickly dabbed on a bit of natural moisturizer to lock in the look.

So next time you look in the mirror at your skin and think “this is NOT me”, give the old washcloth trick a try. I think you’ll be pleasantly surprised by the results. Remember, drink plenty of water, avoid bad-for-you foods, get lots of rest, exercise and don’t waste your money on take-out-a-mortgage skin creams, acids/peels, or injectible poisons. Bee well and bee naturally beautiful.

They let me out of my cage for a few hours this weekend, so I decided to go shopping. We headed down toward Philly and hit a large mall that I enjoy going to. Inside the mall is a large chain cosmetics store (I don’t feel like getting sued, so I won’t use their name). I had just fed my husband, so I knew I had a good half an hour before he started complaining (thank God for L-tryptophan).

I walked into the crowded store and began perusing the new lines. I enjoy looking at new packaging and new product concepts. I tell my husband that it’s “research” and he usually responds, “yeah, just shop and quit trying to make excuses.” Within about 30 seconds, a young store clerk comes up to me and asks if I need help. I’d love to say that I’m the owner of a cosmetics line and I’m checking out the competition, but instead I say “oh, I was looking for eye liner.” She proceeds to drag me over to a brand whose name matches the crappy ingredients they use. Then she pulls out an electric purple shade and says “let’s try this on you.” Before I can utter “no” the pencil is practically in my eyeball. I freeze. I feel the grinding back and forth of the crayon along the inner corner of my left eye. “See…that looks hot with your green eyes.” I grab for the mirror to find the neon shade carved into my skin. I almost swore I could hear Cyndi Lauper “Girls Just Wanna Have Fun” playing in the background. I tried to explain to the clerk that this bright 80s shade would probably look lovely on her, but at my age and with my skintone, I didn’t think it was a good fit. Besides, my eyes are rather close set, so the darker shades should be on the outside of my eye – not the inner corner. “Oh, well you seem to know a little about make-up,” she responds. Then looks at my husband who seems to be getting dizzy from all the artificial scents being sprayed in the air. “What do you think?” Now, that’s just about one of the scariest things you can say to a guy. No matter what they say, they’ll be wrong. Hedging his bet, he simply nods his head – we have no idea what he means. I again express my appreciation for her opinion, but don’t think it’s going to work for me. “Fine” she says, dismissively, and walks away.

Hey, I’m not cheap. I would buy it if I liked it and if the ingredients didn’t scare the hell out of me. I grab the pencil and hunt her down. Half way back in the store I spot her and make a bee-line for her. “Just so you know…I’m going to buy this pencil anyway.” Why did I feel like I had something to prove to this stranger? It reminded me of that episode of Seinfeld with the crested blazer. “Oh..” she muttered, obviously un-phased. Just when I thought the combat was over, she spins around with a palette of eye shadows in her hand. “These would look hot on you.” ‘Has she been hanging out with Paris Hilton?’ I think to myself as I feel the brush hit my eyeball. Within minutes, one eye looks like I had been hit by a baseball bat. “That looks so hot,” the clerk says as I scan the room looking for my husband who has mysteriously disappeared by this point. “um….yeah…could you even me out….I don’t want to walk around the mall with one eye…um….’done’”. She proceeds to trowel product on the other eye as I stay very still, thinking any movement could only make it worse. My skin was starting to burn – what was in this stuff? Then came the mascara. By the time she was done, I made Tammy Faye look good. And I had to walk to my car. Thankfully the young girl got distracted and I made my escape. My husband made no comments – smart man that he is. He kept his arm tight around my waist and I swear he was flashing his wedding ring – did he think I looked like a hooker??! I was happy to return home and wash the garbage off my aching skin. As I sat on the floor playing with the dog, my husband brought over the items we purchased on our trip. Out from a bag fell the purple eye liner. I looked up at him in horror. “But I thought you wanted it….? he said” Poor guy.

Excuses, excuses. Seems like they’re all I have for not writing in my blog.

But it’s not like I haven’t meant to. I’ve had great ideas! When I’m putting gas in my car, or taking a shower or lying awake at 2:00 a.m. But when I finally get to work, those ideas are gone. And they never happen AT work. Maybe I’m too busy when I’m here. Doesn’t it seem like we’re too busy for anything these days? The days now just fly by. Summer is over already. My little niece is going to be 17 in two months. I remember when my sister-in-law was in my wedding and we found out she was pregnant with this child. And the kid will be graduating in a year! Where does the time go? Is our society moving too fast? Am I the only one who feels this way?

Back to cosmetics – ya know, what I’m supposed to be writing about. My major dilemma for the past few months has been our next product introduction. Not to let the cat out of the bag (that’s a weird expression) but it’s going to be foundation. The issue is what KIND of foundation? About half of customers surveyed want liquid; the other half want loose mineral powder. The sad part is that I can’t do both (unless L’Oreal decides to be generous and donate half their R&D budget to me). The other issue is color range. My coloring is different from your coloring which is different from your neighbor’s coloring, etc. So do I put out 20 colors? I can just hear the stores screaming at me now – “do we REALLY have to stock ALL of this?” “it takes up too much room” “my customers only wear these three shades”.

So that’s where I’m at with things. What is YOUR opinion? Let me hear from you. Afterall, we make these products for you – we’re just looking for a little guidance.