Stinky Goop: My Go-To Beauty Product

I’m sitting at my computer with stinky goop smeared all over my head. My toes are painfully being pushed apart using a foam comb and I’m being very careful to tap the keys with the pads of my fingers only. Needless to say I’m typing something like eighteen words per minute and I’m probably going to have to re-do a couple of nails when I’m finished anyway. This could be a scene from a horror movie or it could be my pre-holiday beauty routine. My boys bet it’s the horror movie.


Once upon a time I would have made an appointment at the salon, blocking out several hours of “me time”, stocking up on all the gossip magazines that we pretend not to read in the checkout lines. Then I would have spent the better part of an evening with foil in my hair getting honey colored highlights while a pleasant young woman scrubbed dry skin off my heels. After several coats of red lacquer and a heavenly blow out, I would walk out feeling like a movie star—until I got into my car with the Cheerios smashed into the carpet.

Things are different now. I just don’t have time for all of that. I pick up hair color while stocking up on milk and the protein powder my son just “has” to have and I pray that “multifaceted color” means that I won’t wind up looking like I had my head dunked in ink. I used to buy the 40 minute color but I’ve worked my way down to the 10 minute version. My idea of a pedicure is to wear a pair of socks to bed after putting lotion on my feet. I paint my toenails while waiting for the shower to get hot and I hide my feet for a day so that the polish has time to wear off my skin since I’m not very careful with the brush. It might not be perfect, but it gets done.

I find it laughable that women are expected to produce gifts for a gaggle, food for the festivities, decorate everything in twinkle lights and look lovely for the spouse’s work Christmas party and the annual gala for the needy cause du jour. My husband celebrates when he can find a shirt without any holes in it to wear. Of course it doesn’t stop me from trying to do it all anyway. After all, I may not have any me time left but I’m not willing to look like I’m last on the list—that’s the men’s job.