Egyptian princess

I have a beautiful Egyptian collar that I bought for roughly $25 in 2016.

I have never worn it, but I love it and REFUSE to donate it, even though all it does is take up space in my jewelry cabinet.

So I’m thinking the perfect thing to do is to build an outfit around it, maybe even a burner outfit.

I got inspired by THIS photo on Pinterest:

Turn the white dress into a white bathing suit and add a gold belt (preferably not beaded so that it doesn’t MOOP) and you’ve got a LEWK!

But it doesn’t stop there.

Oh no!

Because I also fell in love with this gold and turquoise Egyptian look:

I think it’d be fabulous to take a diaphanous white or gold fabric and make those arm bands with them.

For makeup, I’m loving the look on this model:

And there you have it, everything I need for my Egyptian princess look.

I have only one hesitation.

Is it culturally appropriate for a Nordic woman to wear an Egyptian style costume or will I catch hell for wearing it?

I have a problem

I have a problem.

I’m just going to go ahead and admit it.

I have TOO MUCH MAKEUP!

As part of my shelter in place homesteading experience, I am slowly going through all my cabinet drawers and bookshelves and reorganizing everything.

I have a BUNCH OF CRAP that I need to throw away or donate.

Anyway, part of the reorganization process involves going though (I KID YOU NOT) six storage boxes of makeup and eliminating what is useless.

I’m not even counting the suitcase that I keep most of my makeup in.

Sadly if I’m honest, most of it is useless.

Why?

Because I have SO MUCH MAKEUP I don’t even know what I have!

How can you use something you don’t even know exists?

I am tempted to throw a socially distanced makeup party and invite all my friends and family who would like to check it out to come by and take whatever they want.

After all, most of the makeup has never even been opened!

I know, I know!

It’s an illness.

And I am trying to overcome it.

I’ve gotten much better at restraining myself when it comes to shopping at Ulta and Sephora.

Just so you know, my kids REFUSE to let me set foot inside cosmetic stores if they are with me, THAT’S HOW BAD IT IS!

The irony in all this is that I have a daughter.

I could share (dump) all this makeup on her.

EXCEPT SHE’S NOT INTO MAKEUP!

She prefers the natural look – chapstick is about as much makeup as she puts on.

I guess God decided to play a joke on me and give me an obsession I can’t share with either of my children.

So, if any of my friends are interested in makeup, hit me up.

You know who you are!

Age like Christie Brinkley

I went to a party this week and talked to a bunch of people.

As is typical for me, I tended to hang out with my friends instead of meeting new people, which is the WHOLE POINT of a party.

[No wonder I’m single.]

While I was there, an older woman approached me and gave me a lovely compliment.

She told me I had great skin.

I thanked her and told her my secret: SUNBLOCK and YOUTH.

I grew up in California.

I remember being a teenager and slathering myself with baby oil while laying out in the backyard.

But ever since I worked in a spa in my 20s, I’ve religiously applied sunblock every day.

I don’t avoid the sun though.

I go to Burning Man, after all.

It’s nothing but sun and dust.

When it comes to my youthful appearance, I like to quote Carrie Fisher:

It’s just a matter of time until I look older.

I miss my 19-year old EVERYTHING!

And although I’m quite pleased with what my DNA has made me into, it’s impossible to ignore that I’m not going to age like Christie Brinkley.

Standing next to supermodels

It sounds like a nightmare, doesn’t it?

Having to stand next to a supermodel.

What could be worse that being side by side with a leggy blond or brunette with perfectly symmetrical features and cheekbones that could cut wood?

I personally try not to follow too many fashion models on Instagram because it’s bad for my mental health and self image.

I try to follow curve models.

They have curvy butts and thighs and sometimes even a soft belly.

It’s comforting to me to see women with body types like my own.

It makes me feel like less of an unlovable freak and more like a beautiful woman.

I’m not sure beauty magazines understand the impact they have on young women growing up when all they promote within their pages are size 0 models.

It’s a 445 BILLION dollar industry based on convincing women that they need this lipstick, dress, purse, face cream, etc, in order to be beautiful.

I am reminded of a line in “Everybody’s Free (To Wear Sunscreen)” that goes something like this:

DO NOT READ BEAUTY MAGAZINES, THEY WILL ONLY MAKE YOU FEEL UGLY.

Beauty magazines are in the business of making beautiful women feel ugly.

When I was younger I loved beauty magazines.

I used to subscribe to several of them and I’d comb through the pages of the magazine picking out makeup, clothes, and accessories that I really wanted.

It gave me a little thrill.

Now, it makes me shudder.

And yet, I am a beauty consumer of the first water.

A VIB Sephora member.

A Platinum member of ULTA.

And I’ll be damned if I don’t also buy makeup from Milani, Beautylish, and elf.

If the amount of makeup we buy is proportional to how ugly we feel inside, then what do my spending habits say about me????

God, there’s a frightening thought.

Butt cracks and snot rockets

michelleI went to the Korean Spa with my girlfriend this past weekend.

Once again, I was reminded of how fabulous their body treatments are:

A scrub and a rub (1 hour 15 minutes) for $90.

The technicians are older Korean women who are wearing black bras and underwear. I guess that’s the uniform when you work in a wet spa all day long.

They wear raw silk mitts over their hands and they scrub you down like a rotisserie chicken on a wet vinyl bed.

And I’m not kidding when I tell you that NOODLES OF DEAD SKIN COME OFF YOUR BODY!

This time around there was no belly fat on my forehead.

But I did get taught (firsthand) how to properly wash my butt.

You don’t know sh*t until you’ve been schooled by an old Korean woman wearing nothing but a bra and underwear on how to properly wash your butt crack.

After I was scrubbed raw and pink, my technician massaged me vigorously.

She massaged my face too and it was then that I realized that my forehead was sore.

I didn’t even know a forehead could be sore!

My resting bitch face is exhausting.

So there we were, naked and exposed, laying on a wet vinyl bed, getting scrubbed and rubbed by our technicians – a very basic but essential body treatment – when it happened. . .

My technician put a finger against her nose, and BLEW A SNOT ROCKET TO THE GROUND AT HER FEET.

Yes, this is the woman who clucked at me for not washing my butt thoroughly enough.

Like I’m going to take etiquette lessons from her.

Many snores

I just took a trip to Reno to visit my sister.

We got facials and used the facilities at the Spa Toscano at The Peppermill.

It was ah-mazing!

I actually fell asleep during my facial and woke myself up when I snored.

Yup, I snored in the middle of my facial.

Twice!

I was obviously SO RELAXED!

In the women’s locker room, there were several spa features:

  1. A hot tub
  2. A cold plunge
  3. A steam room
  4. A sauna

Personally, I stripped naked and jumped in the hot tub.

I was surprised to see all the other women in swimsuits.

Even a bridal party of seven skinny women did not have the balls to strip naked in the ladies locker room.

Given the opportunity to get naked, I ALWAYS get naked.

In fact, hanging out at the spa made me miss Lupin Lodge in the Santa Cruz mountains, where you can walk around naked as they day you were born in the beautiful sunshine.

My sister and I eventually put on swimsuits and went to the Caldarium (an indoor area with a soaking pool and hot tubs where you can eat and drink).

She soaked in the pool while I hung out in the hot tub.

Afterwards, we got to eat at the Bimini Steakhouse at The Peppermill and I KID YOU NOT, we both ordered the filet mignon and the Australian lobster tail and when our food arrived, there were TWO LOBSTER TAILS FOR EACH OF US.

Too much food to eat, so we basically forced ourselves to eat the lobster tails and took most of our filet mignon home.

A dessert of cherries jubilee, and we were finished with our day of pampering.

Reno might not be the city you think of when you think of a weekend of pampering and relaxation, but I’m here to tell you it is.

I wish you all many snores!

The Korean Spa

I’ve got all these plans to pamper myself and get beach ready for Florida.

Of the treatments I have scheduled, the one I am most excited about is my scrub.

You’d think that a scrub is no big deal, but you’d be SO WRONG.

Because at the Korean Spa, you get scrubbed by women in black bras and underwear wearing raw silk mitts while you lay on a wet vinyl bed and get buckets of warm water thrown on you.

Noodles of DEAD SKIN come off your body.

I honestly LOVE/HATE the experience because the technician always clucks at me like I’m not doing enough to stay clean and exfoliated and she SHOWS ME THE PILES OF DEAD SKIN SHE’S SCRAPED OFF ME.

It’s thrilling and disgusting at the same time.

After Barbara gets a scrub at the Korean Spa, she likes to say she’s the cleanest she’s ever been.

Indeed, fresh as a daisy and soft as a baby’s bottom.

I MAY have tacked on a 45 minute massage after my scrub.

Because what’s better after getting your skin exfoliated than to get a nice baby oil massage?

I know, I know.

It sounds kinda kinky.

And it is.

That’s probably why I like it so much.

Pretty comes with a price tag

Let’s face it, beauty is a multi-BILLION dollar industry.

People make their ENTIRE CAREER out of creating beauty.

And though I believe that our views of beauty need to be broadened, I can’t help but also feel thankful that there are people who focus on making others feel good and look good.

We’ve established that I’m the quintessential consumer.

I impulse buy.

Shopping for me is entertainment.

The one thing I haven’t mentioned on my blog yet is the steps I go through to get ready for a trip, particularly one which involves the company of a handsome (and perhaps Swedish) man.

So, Florida.

I’m getting five beauty services to prepare for my trip.

First, I’m getting a Korean scrub and massage at the Korean spa.

If you haven’t read “Wet vinyl beds and belly fat” then you need to.

It tells you all about my experience at the Korean spa, which I equate to heaven.

Imagine getting noodles of dead skin off your body via the most exquisite raw silk full-body scrub.

Second.

I’m getting my hair colored.

I mean, is there anything more of a pick me up than a fresh head of hair color?

Third, and this one is KEY, I’m getting a SPRAY TAN.

Because let’s face it, if I can’t tone it then I might as well tan it, am I right?

Finally, I’ve got to get my mani/pedi freshened up.

Because nothing is worse than chipped nail polish while on vacation.

Okay, there are worse things, but not in the limited realm of beauty treatments.

So there you have it, my five beauty treatments I’m CRAMMING into two days to get myself ready for Florida.

Man, I hope he notices. . .

Bona Fide

One thing you should know about Barbara is that she is a trend setter.

Barbara got eyelash extensions.

I got eyelash extensions.

I even went to the same technician to get my lashes done.

The latest trend Barbara is embracing is sparkly coffin-shaped nails.

I too have embraced this trend.

Of course, I go to the same woman that Barbara uses.

When I was leaving the salon, I ran into Barbara’s former roommate.

She gets her nails done there too!

We all follow Barbara’s beauty regime!

Tejas took one look at my nails and called me a sparkle pony.

In Burning Man speak that’s “All fluff, no substance.”

Do I care?

NO.

Because honestly, I LOVE my long sparkly coffin nails.

Barbara should get free beauty treatments, I think.

She’s like a living, breathing advertisement for the services she gets.

And of course, you know when Barbara researches something you’re getting a great deal.

She doesn’t spend her money on sub-standard treatments.

No.

My girl wants the best and that’s what she gets.

So anything with her STAMP OF APPROVAL on it is bona fide.

Run out and get you some sparkly coffin nails and see if you’re not delighted with the finished product. . .

Missing Ribs

I follow a bunch of “Instagram models” and celebrities on Instagram.

Why?

Because. . . Instagram.

Since popular culture has decided to show me the female body in a less than diverse manner than it’s represented in real life, I consider Instagram my therapy.

I can follow short women, round women, curvy women, fat women, thin women, athletic women and just about any kind of woman you can dream up.

Some of my favorites are:

And:

I also follow Suicide Girls, which is sort of a site for counterculture women with tattoos, colorful hair, and piercings.

These women tend to be more on the skinny side, less on the curvy side.

Until this:

Now, I’m not gonna say I didn’t have to pause a second before moving on, because I paused for a GOOD LONG WHILE before I took a snapshot.

What I am going to say is, “IS THIS PHOTOSHOPPED?”

Honestly, it doesn’t look real.

I’m no Photoshop expert, but I swear something here is stinky.

Either that or she had some ribs removed.