Full on melt down today in my office. We’re talking, closed door sobbing and Kleenex here.
Now, my 30st birthday may be on the horizon in the not so distant future that you could book hotel and airline reservations for it, but I thought I was going to fine with it. It was going to breeze by and I’d look back on my first year as a 30 year old and think, “damn, I did good and am still going strong.” Then of course, I look in the mirror and see silver hairs on the side of my head. I’ve seen strays now and again, luckily they blend, but I looked and there was a crop of them, like a little army getting ready to take over my naturally…uh…brown I think, hair. Yup, lost it.
Luckily I have an office and a door. Otherwise, my little melt down would have happened in a very public cubical space, not cute for reviews later on this year. Really I’m sure the fact that I cried over a few grey hair shouldn’t surprise anyone who knows me, I am rather vain about some aspects of my appearance. Obviously, my hair is one, and the other that I’ve just come to realize, is my skin.
I think, due to years of swimming, water polo and sand from the beach, I always had nice skin and never thought much about it. Now I live in the midwest. The winter air here is cold and even though its snowing or raining, lacks moisture (something i’m still totally not clear on, is how exactly that works) and my skin hates it. I don’t mean, isn’t a fan, or doesn’t follow it on twitter, but we are talking all out, WTF is going on, war. This has resulted in a few things that I never really felt the need to do in CA.
1. Find a dermatologist. Other than moles, really didn’t need one and I didn’t even have a primary provider in San Francisco. Now that I’ve got ashy ass elbows, skin cracked knuckles and redness, I’m over it.
2. Schedule facials. I say facials, because for some reason, my forehead looks like its about 2 seconds away from a serious breakout, not a good look.
3. Find a tanning salon. I know its bad for you, I know it increases your risk of skin cancer and my mom has been fighting that battle for years now, so spare me. But I wasn’t born with that nice latino mix skin, you know, the kind that looks like its tan even though it hasn’t seen the sun in years? I have this fantastic Scottish skin, red and splotchy unless otherwise cooked and colored by the sun to the point where my freckles connect. Since there is no sun here at the moment, I have to find an alternative. Because when your new work friend is looking at your Facebook pictures and says “wow, you were SO tan in all these pictures, what happened?” and you realize you’re the same color as a Saltine, it stings a bit.
4. Put those creams Audrey gave me to work. Yes, one of my former roommates managed a spa, now she is part owner of it (woot woot!). Not only does she know what she’s talking about when she speaks skin, but she always hooked me up with great product. Product that, until now, has been sitting unopened in my bathroom, will be put to great use.
Luckily my hair is an easy fix, that I know will work every time and I can buy at any supermarket. I just have to find the right color, lord knows I’ve gotten that wrong more than a time or two. Meanwhile, I may have to soon find an indoor pool or hot tub to aid in my skin recovery if all these new ways of trying to keep even, moisturized and tan don’t work. If they don’t, Miami, here I come. I always do glow there…