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Can you count the number of things wrong with this promotional photo?
No, because you need a computer to count to infinity gazillion.
I really sort of almost wish not that Whitney Houston was still a crackhead (because I luuuuurves me some Whitney, and I'm really glad she's almost back to fully being Every Woman), but maybe just that the popularity of her reality show and this post could've been a bit more synchronicitous so it'd be funnier when I react to *Intuition's denim and tie-dye leggings with a resounding
OHHH HELLLLLLLLLLS TO THE NO!
And while we're here, we may as well get a closer look at the travesty:
Soooo Peg Bundy, and not in the funny ironic way. And I love the description: These deluxe faux-denim leggings are so street chic." Okay, first of all, "deluxe" and "faux-denim" = oxy moron, for there is NOTHING deluxe about faux-denim leggings or faux-denim ANYTHING for that matter. And these are "street chic" if -- and only if -- you're working the street.
So, the other day I go to the dermatologist for a rather mundane, routine matter - puffy eyelids of the not - so - major - anyone - will -really -notice- but- apparent- enough- to -me - to - go -to -the -doctor variety.
First of all, the doctor asks if I'd used any new make-up or nail polish (uhh, yes and definitely yes). Turns out that nail polish is the #1 cause of eyelid puffos in women! (Don't you love that there's a hierarchy of causes?)
Oh, so I'm at a large practice with lots of other docs -- I've really liked the other doctors I've seen there -- but this was the first time I'd seen this particular doctor. And I didn't really like her because:
a.) She didn't really seem to listen to me. I'd been to that same practice for the same issue before, yet she didn't take the time to check my record -- on the laptop sitting open with my chart on it right in front of her -- and see what the deal was. (That seems like the easy way out to me! Just look it up! Chances are it's the same thing! But maybe my inclination to take the path of least resistance is just one compelling reason why I'm not a doctor).
b.) She mentions a topical treatment I'd tried before and then like quickly tried to flip the script, changing the topic, and fucking UPSELLS me on some laser treatment to "reduce the redness in my face" to treat my super mild rosacea. Apparently I'd only need about three or four treatments... at about $450 or so A POP (!!!). Um, lady, I'm used to coming in here and paying a $30 copay. You really think I wanna shell out like $1600 (as if I had $1600 to spend on "mild redness") on fucking lasers? What irked me the most was that after I told her that the redness really didn't bother me that much, she kept on with "well, you know... something to think about."
So, I walk in to get eyelid medicine or some whatever and potentially leave in debt? WTF?
Don't get me wrong -- I'm not fully against laser treatment or anything. Especially if I had a beard or something I couldn't get rid of. (Eep!) But the redness in my face is just MINOR part of me, and not a very big or important part of me either. It's probably like maybe the 14th thing people notice about me? If that? And it's redness I've earned through a combination of factors both within my control -- drinking too much coffee and probably not enough water; Jack Daniels; tacos and other vices -- and a few beyond the stretch of my dominion -- being really really incredibly white. That aside, I'm pretty proud of the fact that my skin is generally clear, through a combination of sheer luck, never going to bed with make-up on (sick!) and maintaining my situation via moisturization. So why would I risk this shit (granted, if I did get some kind of laser treatment done, it would not be at a spa, but still) for an outcome that's not guaranteed, for a "problem" that only really seems to be a problem to my doctor -- who most likely stands to make a fat commission -- but not to me?
I'm not even 30, so I'm in slight disbelief that I've reached an age where people want to zap my face with lasers and pay them for the privilege.
Soon I'll be bring you some happy, healthy skin and beauty products I've recently discovered. Until then, I say fuck a bitch! Point your frikkin' laserbeams at someone else!
Uh, it's like 4 degrees in Tampa or some shit. What I'm saying, people, is that it's colder than Sharon Stone's face after a marathon round of deep-freezin' Botox action or whatevs.
So, for better or worse (and I'm pretty sure that, no matter what, it's better, because for every pair you buy they donate a pair to a shoeless child), I bought a pair of Tom's shoes. And I decided to go big and bold with the glittery silver pair instead of boring green canvas or whatever.
Silver glitter TOMS shoes, $48. I think they're kind of cool in a weird way. What say yous? Yea? Nay?
Yes, the Tory Burch "Reva" ballet flat is cute, but so is Abigail Breslin, but you don't see me hanging out with her. That's why I have to take issue with iVillage for putting them on their "Still In For Spring" list. Conversely, they're on my own personal "First to Go" list. Enough is enough! They're overly specific to last spring, and they're making me yawn.
Um, okay. I was just about write that these sassy yet simple shoes are the Dorothy Zbornak of awesome flats, and THEN I saw that these are called "Dotty," thus confirming my long-held suspicions that I am a FUCKING GIRL GENIUS.
Not so me, but I could see MKHo pulling these off with much "aplomb." And speaking of black ballet flats -- throughout much of last fall, I wore a pair of subtle black patent quilted ballet flats that I got at like Rainbow or something (no joke) for under a twenty. I wore them with everything, and quite well, if I must say. Unfortunately they started to smell like a pile of fragrant garbage, so I had to trash them, but they're such an easy go-to that I may have to replace them:
Perhaps inspired by A Cup Of Jo's recent post on the super-glam heyday of 1960s air travel (I mean, I wasn't there, so what do I know? It could've sucked, but you know -- almost 50 years later, it looks pretty rad in an ambiguously misogynistic way), I really want these Candela NYC perfect patent pumps in what shall forthwith be referred to as "airline blue."
Anthropologie "Half-past-six" trenchcoat by Taikonhu, $198. I tried it on at the store last night and it felt so lovely. Unfortunately, that price tag is sooooo not me.
I'm seriously considering a DIY fix. I'm thinking a box of dye and this Target trench might do the trick:
Taking a cue from other most fabbers floggers like Trendinista and Threadtrend (seriously, if you're not familiar with them, stop doing whatever it is you're doing to waste your life and get on this train!), here's a round-up of stuff you indulge in, 'Bingers:
+ JC Reporthas London Fashion Week highlights, including Danielle Scutt. This yellow and purple Erdem dress simultaneously gives me the vapors and the chills = the chapers!