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Saturday Surfing, May 18th, 2019

May 18th, 2019 by Karen 20 Comments

FYI, IMO, applying mascara is a perishable skill.

It is NOT like riding a bike, where once your brain makes the connections and you “get it,” you never forget it. No, if you don’t use your mascara application skills, you lose ’em, man.

Yet another thing I’ve learned this month…

I was reminded of this valuable life lesson yesterday because I wore a considerable amount of makeup in public for the first time in weeks, which I did because I met a friend at Panera down the street for lunch, and then ran a few errands afterward.

I did foundation, concealer, brows, cream blush and cream eyeshadow, and then came the mascara.

Sigh… The mascara.

I don’t know where I took a wrong turn, but somewhere along the way it did. (It may have been at the fifth or sixth coat.)

There was also a completely useless lash comb up in the mix, which, instead of separating my lashes, gathered them together into large spikes, and then those spikes somehow combined into one massive mega spike.

I looked like an anime character gone so, so wrong…

Has this ever happened to you? I mean, I realize that I was the one holding the wand and the comb; therefore, I’m ultimately responsible for everything that happened with them, but I swear, it felt like I was possessed by a spiteful makeup demon 👹 who really, REALLY wanted a good laugh.

Also, on the positive side, even though my lashes were a hot mess, when I looked in the mirror, I didn’t look sad. 😊

Small steps.

On that note, this week’s beauty reading…

What skin care experts say you should do to your face before and after you work up a sweat at the gym.
This new line of nontoxic skin care drops at Target on the 19th, and everything in it is $20 or less.
Some tips for those who pick at their skin. (Side note: I struggled with this when my acne was at its worst, and I feel your pain.)
Um…can somebody do this to my gray hair, please?
7 semi-permanent dyes that work great for black hair, according to Essence
Have you bought a CHI hairdryer lately? Their Lava hairdryers are being recalled.
In case your dog needs a HUGE fluffy hair dryer…
Here’s why some cats look like they’re wearing socks.
What to consider if you’re thinking about adopting a kitty
If you do decide to adopt a furry friend, here’s some basic cat care tips to keep your feline friend happy and healthy.
New Yorkers, please keep an eye out for Lexi, the missing bodega cat.

Two of my favorites on one track

Life is short, so don’t waste your free time!

I think Keanu may only be in this movie for about two seconds, but I’ll watch it anyway (it stars my twin, Ali Wong).

Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,

Karen

How Young Is Too Young to Wax, Thread or Pluck?

May 17th, 2019 by Karen 25 Comments

threshold mugs kiss mustache — The white mug on top: my upper lip if left to its own devices

The other day on a Facebook group I belong to, someone asked for recommendations for salon waxing for her school-age daughter. She said that her daughter was being teased and bullied at school for having body hair.

From the sound of it, I gathered that her daughter was still a child, somewhere between 10-12.

GRRR! 😠 It just made me so angry. Why should a young girl’s state of hairiness be a concern among her peers? I guess I’ve forgotten how petty and mean kids can be.

It’s weird for me to think that elementary school girls would even be concerned about this, but my childhood was a long time ago. Maybe I’m remembering the world the way I want it to be more than the way it was, but I seem to recall being more interested in watching cartoons and reading the Sweet Valley High books at that age than I was with body hair.

I don’t remember being concerned about body hair removal at all until I was at least 13… That’s when I started shaving my legs, which only happened then because someone in my class pointed it out one day when I was wearing shorts (“Did you forget to shave?”).

I was mortified.

I didn’t start waxing my upper lip hair or plucking my brows, though, until college… Maybe I should’ve started earlier, LOL. Seriously, though, if you look closely at the pics of the girls in my high school class yearbook, half of us had a fine layer of fuzz on our upper lip, and most (if not all) of the girls I knew had natural brows.

It’s a different world now…

Back to that Facebook group — in response to that mom’s plea, many people gave recommendations, and quite a few moms said that once they started taking their kids to salons for waxing, threading, plucking and getting fuzz-free, their kids were much happier and more confident, and I can definitely see that. Speaking for myself, I feel a lot better after my body hair situation gets sorted out.

The world is a different place than it was thirty years ago. Or is it? It seems like it in some ways.

What do you think? Is there such a thing as being too young to wax, thread or pluck?

Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,

Karen

Beauty Rituals: Private Versus Public?

May 16th, 2019 by Karen 20 Comments

This morning I examined my face in the magnifying mirror (otherwise known as my best frenemy) and realized that I couldn’t remember the last time I waxed my upper lip.

Was it three weeks ago?

It may have been four…

Needless to say, I have a ’70s-style shag carpet above my upper lip, and it’s not a cute look.

And don’t even get me started on the chin hairs…

As I walked into my bathroom to grab my trusty Bliss blue wax hair-removal kit, it occurred to me that the only other creature who’s ever seen me wax my upper lip hair was Tabs.

He was probably the only one I would let see me with the Bliss blue wax on my face because I knew he wouldn’t be able to say anything snarky, although I’m pretty sure he was thinking that I looked like a dime-store drag version of my brother with a blue mustache (Tabs was ruthless that way, but that’s why I loved him).

I don’t know why I’m so private about those two particular areas, since I’m cool with almost all other forms of hair removal/hair change. Like, I have no qualms about friends, family or complete strangers seeing me pluck my brows. It’s totally not mortifying to me.

Oh — and once in the middle of a hair appointment I strolled down two big city blocks to feed the meter with the foils in my hair and a hair styling cape draped across my shoulders. No biggie.

But anything having to do with my twisty villain mustache has to be done behind closed doors — ideally, only in the presence of a close feline friend.

More of the beauty rituals I do in private:

Waxing/shaving of “the lady-bits” (although, does anybody want to do this in public? LOL!)
Clipping toe nails, and I’ll even clip them *before* going to the nail salon so the nail tech won’t have to do them (I have no idea why I’m so weird about it.)

Beauty rituals I’m comfortable doing in front of other people:

Facials
Face masks (honestly, the weirder the better!)
Putting on makeup (this one’s very social for me, of course)
Haircuts/color
Manis/pedis

How about you? What are your public and private beauty rituals?

Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,

Karen

When Was the Last Time You Made a Spur-of-the-Moment Beauty Decision?

May 15th, 2019 by Karen 33 Comments

The time: last week.

The place: a local salon (but not my usual one).

I made a last-minute appointment, walked in, plopped down into the chair and asked the stylist to go to town. It was the most hair I’ve had cut in five years.

I’d actually been ruminating on doing something like this for a while, and I think that Tabs passing pushed me over the edge. (The whole “saying goodbye and moving into a different stage of life” thing.)

Also, I’d gotten to the point where I reached “mean piano teacher status,” and when you hit that level, it’s time to choppity-chop that hair.

I’ve basically been ignoring my hair for six or seven months. Honestly, I can’t even remember the last time I got a trim. I really couldn’t wear it down anymore because of how unruly it had become, and whenever I did try to “style it,” I’d just slick down the front and pull the rest into a tight ponytail or bun.

In my head, I was going for Vogue chic, but I think it made me look more severe and serious than I think I am…or at least want to be.

I’ll post a pic soon… I want to show you the hair, but I’m not quite there yet in terms of seeing myself in pics. For some reason, it’s my eyes. I still see a sad person staring back at me when I look at pics of myself.

Hard to explain.

I’ll try soon.

Your friendly neighborhood beauty addict,

Karen

Lessons of Love and Life I Learned From Grief

May 14th, 2019 by Karen 55 Comments

On a sunny May afternoon, with the windows open and the finches singing and the branches of the old oak tree slowly swaying in the breeze outside, my husband and I sat beside each other on our living room couch, with Tabs, our beloved cat of 12 years, between us. I cradled him in my arms with his head draped over my right shoulder (always the right, never the left), while El Hub held his paws.

For most of the creatures in the world, that afternoon was business as usual, but for us, time slowed as we said our final goodbyes and thank yous to our furry friend.

As it sometimes does, the cancer won.

I’ve experienced the loss of pets before, but never like this. Tabs was my constant companion and sounding board throughout the entire decade of my thirties, and with him by my side, I crossed major adult milestones — marriage, moving into our first home, exciting career changes, family emergencies, serious illnesses, pregnancy, child birth. He saw me at my best and my worst, and through it all, he was there with head boops, whisker kisses and brute force lap snuggles (did I mention he was 18 pounds?). His love was fierce yet sweet, and he will always be my big kitty love.

But this post isn’t about Tabs (well, not entirely). It’s about grief and how it changes us.

A thread that binds us all

I think that most people understand that grief is very personal, and that no two people grieve in the exact same way. There is one thing, though, that binds us all together, and of all the lessons I’ve learned from my cat’s passing, this reminder was the most sobering: Everyone we love will eventually die.

It’s a harsh reality. Even though I understood this truth deep down inside, I think I wrapped myself in a cozy blanket of denial.

This was partly because I’ve been lucky to have lived almost 44 years on this earth without having to survive the loss of a close loved one. Losing Tabs was my first real grown-up experience with death, and MAN — it was a vortex of raw, visceral emotion.

The bittersweet juxtaposition

There are many moments of happy sadness — both at the same time. After we’d gotten the news of his terminal diagnosis and Tabs came home from the vet, we were given a time frame of three to six weeks.

That’s how much time we thought we’d have with him, but it only turned out to be two… They were peppered with so many joyous moments, but each one was tinged with the pain of knowing he’d be gone soon.

During our last few days with him, I tried to brace myself for what was to come. I watched Ted talks on grief, listened to podcasts on dying, read articles and talked to friends, hoping to prepare myself for the inevitable, but…

You’ll never be the same again

Nothing prepared me for the fissure I felt when his breath slowed down and his heart finally stopped. The moment I could no longer feel the fluttery beat inside his chest, my heart cracked.

In that split second, I knew: I would never be the same person again. I would carry a small scar on my heart for the rest of my life.

Yet, swirling in a sea of sadness, I also felt joy, hope and relief. Happy that he was no longer in the pain I didn’t think he was in at the time, but now think he may have been. Full of hope that I’d see him again.

Before he left, I whispered into his ear that he didn’t have to be scared or worried because he wouldn’t be alone, and we would see him again.

Seeing everything through a different filter

I think I have. This will seem silly to some people, but since Tabs passed, I swear, he’s sent me signs. I feel his soul with me when the leaves in the oak trees that dot his favorite hill suddenly stand still on a windy day, or when a single beam of sunlight dances on a hot pink patch of flowers, or when I look outside my office window in the morning and see the sunrise filtering through the moss on the tree trunks, or in the purplish pink hues on the horizon at sunset.
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