Red Doors & Oranges
This weekend, I was at Walgreens buying a whole bunch of crap I don’t need when I passed by some products that were on sale.
Sale! Try 50% off! Anyone that knows anything about me, knows that a sale like that will stop me in my tracks.
I did scope out whether everything in the line was on clearance but they didn’t seem to be. Half off of a whole line of beauty products does not instill great confidence in the items sold. Either I’m going to try it and see exactly why they were trying to pawn it onto unsuspecting customers, or I’m going to love it and never be able to find it again.
I picked up this moisturizer and was reading the label when I almost immediately got hooked: “helps protect and repair aging, sun-damaged skin”.
I guess this is where I can pretend that my skin is flawless, perfect in every way and I’m afraid to go rollerblading for fear of falling and cracking my porcelain façade.
Lies.
I live in Arizona and I have very fair skin. And even though I’m not much of a tanner (except for the one unfortunate summer after I turned 30 - oh boy - let’s not speak of it again) I think by virtue of living here (and, oh, being 36), I have noticed some changes to my face and some of those changes are sun damage.
SUCKS. The hardest part about getting older, at least for me, is watching my skin change. Wrinkles - bah. Who cares?
The overall appearance of my skin, though, just doesn’t look as fresh. It makes me want to search for that Fountain of Youth that I used to scoff at when older women would yammer on about when I was young and fresh.
I never noticed those few spots on my face until I went for my spa day on my birthday last year. I think I was taking a blog break aka R was here, we were busy getting busy so I never got around to posting about my experience at Red Door.
I’m not linking them, because I’m about to talk shit about them and who links things they talk shit about? I’m much too polite for that.
R was really sweet to get the spa day for me. Last year, I asked him for a) a Coach bag b) a puppy (thank GOD he didn’t get me one) or c) a spa day. I SAID OR, PEOPLE. I’m not a demanding bitch. Most of the time.
He went into Red Door himself, he picked out the package on his own and need I remind you? R’s a pretty macho I AM SAILOR dude. The thought of him standing in that girly place surrounded by chicks trying to sell him shit sent me into fits of giggles.
The spa day, over all, was fun. It was sort of relaxing. The facialist (word?) was probably the nicest one… but she tried to sell me each and everything she put on me my face by sort of, kind of, putting me down.
Like when you’re in the nail salon and all you want is a pedicure and they try to up-sell you on a manicure by telling you how shitty your nails look.
But that’s a nail salon, and this is a swanky not-cheap spa.
Every time I was handed off to a new technician, they felt the need to remind me, “Oh you have one the basic packages…” I shit you not, I heard this at least half a dozen times that day. It made me more and more mad as the day went on, to the point I wanted to grab the manicurist by her smug face and tell her to piss off. Oooh! Relaxing.
How rude to keep reminding someone of that. If you know I have the basic package, then you may also know that it was a GIFT and a not-cheap gift (snooped for the receipt. I’m sorry, happened to see the receipt) at that, by a man that doesn’t normally go around buying this type of shit for women (bless him).
By the time my pedicure was completed and I was supposed to have my makeup done, I just sort of fled out of there and never went back.
However, every day I’ve looked in the mirror since then, I’ve noticed these damn sun spots. Thank you, FACIALIST.
All that to say, I have noticed a change in my skin since using this moisturizer, and it’s only been a few days. Seeing my face look fresher, plumper (in a good way) and seeing those sun spots fade makes me want to leap for joy. Buy it by the vat-load. Hurl jars of it through the plate glass window of Red Door and tell those bitches to step off.
If you see it, pick it up. If you don’t like the smell of oranges, don’t buy it. It smells like you rubbed orange rind on your face. I don’t mind it, though, it makes me feel rather fancy and not unlike a fruit salad… and hey, I’ve smelled worse.
If it doesn’t work for you, don’t come crying to me. Take it back to Walgreens where it belongs, there’ll be more for me!