How to be less gross.

If you only know me from the witty and sparkling chatter found on my blog, you probably think I'm gorgeous in person. Well. That just depends on the day and whether or not I had time to put on lipstick, now doesn't it? Actually, I probably look the same to the world at large every day of my life, but (like almost everyone in the Western world) I notice myself a little more than other people do.

When I was eighteen or so, I had a friend, sort of like a boyfriend, but I don't think he was that into me, so maybe not. We were supposed to go to some party or another and I had a zit on my chin. I freaked, threw a full on hissy fit and refused to go to the party. Looking back on it, I'm not sure why. Could one zit really change someone's opinion of me? Did one zit indicate a great character flaw I needed to hide from the world? Um. I have no answer for that, m'kay? I was eighteen and ridiculously self-conscious and self-obsessed. My friend did me a big favor.

"You know," he said as I sniffled dramatically, "Nobody cares about your stupid zit."

What? This was a statement both depressing and liberating. Nobody cares. Nobody's watching. The world just isn't that into me. He chastised me for being willing to miss an entire party over something so inconsequential as a zit.

"Do you realize how small that thing is compared to your entire body?"

I did the math. He was right, the percentage was minuscule.

"NOT THAT I'M SAYING YOUR BODY IS BIG. YOU ARE VERY, VERY SKINNY."

Well, thin or slender are nicer words, but to quote Sarah Silverman, "I just want you to think I'm skinny." Although he was also eighteen, he was a wise man.

So, thanks to that guy, I haven't turn downed a party since. Thanks, that guy. Now I'm an alcoholic. But I digress.

This time of year, when the weather changes, my skin goes into panic mode. Yesterday, I had dry, peeling skin, all over my face. No amount of moisturizer made it disappear. Desperate for a fix, I went to the kitchen. In a bowl, I mixed the following:

• a spoonful of almond butter.
• a blob of mashed, overripe banana (froze the rest for banana bread later).
  
• a spoonful of sugar.
• a large squirt of honey.
• a dash of extra virgin olive oil.
• a dollop of buttermilk, which I'm still trying to get rid of. Suggestions?

It didn't look like much, but then I remembered this cool soap I had one time from Lush. It was supposed to be a massage bar and had all these aduki beans mashed into it. I did not have aduki beans, as that is not the sort of thing a housewife keeps in the pantry. I did have some (much smaller than aduki beans) raw quinoa, so I added that. Then I rubbed the whole mess on my face and left it there for a while. I licked some of it from my lips and it tasted pretty good, but I wouldn't drink it. I don't think the quinoa added to its effectiveness, but it felt good when I was massaging it into my skin. I looked funny with all those little quinoa balls on my face. It made me laugh, out loud, alone in the bathroom. That's the kind of crazy person I am. I rinsed it off after about ten minutes, patted dry and rubbed in some La Mer cream. The flakiness was almost gone. I applied the gooey homemade face wash one more time in the shower that evening and the flakiness was conquered. This is huge. Usually that flakiness lasts for days. I feel happy.

Namasté, y'all!