I’ll admit it, I’m a sucker for make-up.

I’ve got to check out the latest and greatest. So on a recent trip to the drug store, I was lured to the cosmetic aisle like a fish to shiny objects.

They put all the new stuff on an endcap. Brightly colored displays featuring images of too perfect women adorn the shelves and scream, “try this product and you’ll look like ME!”

The blonde in me kicks in…… Okay….

Mascara seems to be the one to get me. It’s easy for me to overlook anything foundation related. My skin is way too sensitive and I know what will happen if I go there. I love eye shadow, so sometimes the bright new shades will captivate me. And I’m pretty loyal to my lip products (Honeybee Perfection Lip Liner and Seduction Lipstick) so that’s not the best bait either. But mascara intrigues me. I want to have the BEST. And I’m always comparing mine to other brands.

Nine bucks later, I’m walking out of the store with yet another tube of black mascara. This one has a huge super new technology brush which includes both brush and comb bristles. “Finally,” I think, “a mascara that won’t clump. I mean, how could it with this brush that has TWO KINDS of bristles?”

The next morning as I apply my make-up, I’m anxious to try my new purchase. I open up the tube to find the brush is HUGE – about the size of my eye ball. I’m wondering how I’m going to keep from poking an eye out with this thing (especially since my kitten Falon is walking back and forth across the vanity in front of my face, begging for attention…if her tail goes up my nose one more time I’m tempted to bite it to send her packing). With the precision of an artist I began sweeping the bulbous object across my lashes. Clump. Clump. Dang. I get out my single applicator brush that I swiped from Sephora, and begin sweeping away about half the product which is caked on my lashes. It’s about 6:30 in the morning and I’m not the brighest bulb at that hour, so I think to myself that possibly things will go better with the other eye. Several tissues, gobs of mascara and one upset cat later, I reach for my own brand of mascara and start over. Nine bucks down the tube. Rats.

Will I repeat this process again? Probably. Will I be lured by vibrating mascara wands, colored mascara that promises to make my green eyes even greener, and super techno advanced mascara brushes that will make me have lashes like a Victoria’s Secret model? No doubt. And they’ll all end up in my vanity drawer. At least they make fun cat toys.

One of my (younger) friends suggested I check out Facebook. “Yeah, right” I thought to myself. That’s a communication tool for kids in high school. Like I have time for that! A few months later, and I’m on the darn thing ever day…okay several times a day.

It is a good communication tool. Yeah, I like the voyeur aspect of seeing what my friends are doing and checking out old classmates, but I think it can be so much more. I’ve created both a “Group” and a “Fan Page” for Honeybee Gardens. What better way to communicate with my customers in real time than to be able to upload a note or comment with a few key strokes? And as you can tell from looking over this blog, I’m not very good at keeping up with it! But Facebook is different. It compels you to update it and keep it current. Instead of my personal page where I post stupid stuff like “Melissa is eating a sandwich”, I can post useful information on my Honeybee Facebook page like “Honeybee Gardens was featured in this month’s issue of Real Simple Magazine – check it out!”

Maybe I’m justifying my obsession with Facebook. Or maybe it really is a smart and effective communications tool. Oh, and did I mention it’s free?

“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.