Trial & Era: Part 1

Reader, I have a habit of believing just about any marketing hype that promises beauty from a reasonably affordable bottle. Some people call it “gullible” and want to sell me oceanfront property in Arizona, others still probably think it’s a little sad that I’m never quite satisfied with my appearance that I keep trying to rub stuff into me to change it.  How can it even be my fault, because the beauty industry is always always always telling us we aren’t pretty enough. I shit you not, Reader, I have a product on my shelf that is named “Miracle Blur” – as if I’m so damn bad, I need to be BLURRED OUT of my real life. It’s not even called “Soft Focus” or something nicer sounding – it cuts right to it with, “blur this shit the fuck out. now.”  And I bought it! So yeah, maybe a little psychotherapy should be in my future.

In the meantime, I’m not getting psychotherapy.

So when Christie Brinkley started touting the secrets to her ageless appearance, and flaunting her perfect 60-something year old self everywhere I looked, how could I pass up the opportunity to use what’s keeping her intact? Because obviously she has some secret magic up her sleeve, because how else can this be explained?

I did hear her on a interview with Howard Stern and she sort of made me mad, because she said some nonsense about how “being happy” is the secret to looking like this, and if that were the case I would look like Christie Brinkley’s Even Better self because I am generally one happy mo’fo. Except when I hear lies like that, because then it’s sort of victim-blaming, like “oh, if you were only a happier person who drank sixty-jillion gallons of water, you, too could look like this.” That sort of talk makes me wanna punch their perfect faces in just a little.

So yeah. I’m not buying that nonsense. However, the nonsense I do buy – literally – is anythingwith the word serum attached and costs me some hard-earned scratch. So yeah. The free advice? No thank you, Madam. The $$ advice? Well, it comes in a pretty jar – of course there has to be some magic in that!

Christie’s was going for $34.99 for three little jars of magic, which was some introductory price and goes up to a gajillion dollars for the next 30-day supply. Reader, I had to buy it – how else could I wake up and face my UnChristieBrinkley-Face in the mirror each morning, knowing I didn’t love myself enough to spend $34 on me? Well, I do. I do love myself that much, Reader, which is why I promptly called and awaited my beauty-in-a-box of Christie Brinkley miracles.

After about five day’s use, all it had delivered were breakouts around my mouth and under my nose, which makes me look like I’ve possibly been giving blowjobs to unwashed hobos. I haven’t, in case you were questioning, and shame on you, we’re supposed to be friendies. You should know I only give blowjobs to very-well-washed individuals.

Other than the breakouts, I still look the same other than a little less optimistic.

I briefly considered giving up my new beauty  routine due to the resulting hobo-sucking-inspired blemish pattern, but  I continue on, with the belief that I’m just in Christie Brinkley’s angsty-teenage years right now.

I am hanging on with the 3-prong routine in the hopes that the twenty-something beauty is just days away from emerging, like the moth into the butterfly, but instead of butterfly wings it will come with the swimsuit that looks like a chomp was taken out of the side (which, by the way, I actually DID own a very similar suit back* in my hey-day, wherein that day was all “Hey! you don’t look half-bad, please appreciate you right now! Love, Older Me.”

Now, make no mistake here, Reader – I didn’t look quite like Christie in the swimsuit, but only because I don’t tan (thanks for nothing, Freckles). That’s the only reason. The very one reason only. Shhh… Reader, don’t take this opportunity to be impolite. Friendies, remember??!

*I searched high and low for that photo, I know I’ve had one, I will be mad at me if I threw it out in the name of KonMari Methoding my life, and that was the ONE THING that had to go.  Anyway, I didn’t find it, but I will continue my search when I am home from my work travels and if I do it shall be promptly posted. I owe you that much, Reader. For what, I do not know, but I guess for sticking around and reading about my vagina and whether I do or do not dole out bj’s to hobos. So yeah, thanks for still coming back for more. Which makes me think you actually owe ME, Reader, and not the other way around. You’re welcome.

**I’ll keep you posted if I start to resemble Christie’s MUCH YOUNGER sister.

The End.