I never thought I would find myself in this aisle of the CVS Pharmacy. But there I was in aisle 10A thinking about my anti-aging possibilities at age 37. What the hell?
This kind of stuff shouldn’t even occur to me until I have my mid-life crisis. I mean I have all kinds of crises — all kinds — but I haven’t had the ginormous one yet. I shouldn’t even be concerned with my epidermis. I shouldn’t even be saying epidermis. So what the hell was going on? What led me to visit aisle 10A? What led me to contemplate my skin’s supposed lack of radiance and the need for renewal?
The skin renewal aisle
People. Regular good-looking people.
Now don’t get me wrong I’m not too shabby, but this wasn’t really about looks. It was just about my face, my skin. I mean I’ve always had good skin. No need for Clearasil during my teenage years. No acne scars. No blotches or dark spots. No hardcore facial hair. No allergies. Just regular smooth Guat skin. My only issue has been the dark circles under my eyes, but that’s all good. I’ve had those forever and I’ve learned to use concealer. I’ve grown accustomed to them. So why was I all of a sudden looking at creams with stuff called exfoliators and Retinol? Why the hell was I freaking out about my skin? I’m a Chapstick type of girl, and proud of it. That’s who I am, that’s how I roll. I’m good with it. But it wasn’t the glam look that concerned me. It was me and what I saw in my face during my nighttime routine.
A couple of weeks ago I hung out with a bunch of friends, some who were moms, some who were not. It was a laid-back get-together celebrating one of our friend’s personal milestones. Everyone was having a good time, laughing, chatting, and just hanging out. Everything was all good. Then when I got home something happened.
I looked in the mirror.
Now usually I tend to avoid mirrors, not that I’m hideous or anything. But I just don’t feel the need to constantly look at myself throughout the day. Just in the morning and just at night. But I was getting ready for bed so the mirror was necessary as I did my bedtime routine. I don’t know if guys have bedtime routines, but I know chicks do, even Chapstick chicks do. It’s a process. So as I was lathering up my Aveeno cleanser I looked up and thought … holy crap I looked jacked up. Stressed. Weary. Worn out. Defeated. I looked like my skin needed a vacation.
I thought back to the get-together from that afternoon, everyone I had hung out with today. Dude … they all looked really good. And I couldn’t use the excuse of … well I’m a mom. There were moms there and some with three kids, but they were looking all CoverGirl-like. They looked energized. Vibrant. Airbrushed. They looked magazine-worthy and then here I was looking like the before shot of a wondrous miracle cream that’s supposed to solve all your problems. I mean I know I had the flu and was doped up on DayQuil and NyQuil, and that could have contributed to my crappy state of being, but it was still a total downer.
So it was all of that combined that led me to this alpha-hydroxyl, fruit extract, RevitaLift enriched aisle. And let me tell you there were plenty of options. I realized that this trip down aisle 10A required a little more recon. I stood there about fifteen minutes lost in the multitude of anti-aging, lifting, firming, revitalizing, scrubbing serum creams. I felt like I needed a lifeline, but had no idea who to call.
I was lost. I had no idea if I needed exfoliating or toning, lifting or firming. I thought cream was just cream. The fanciest I’d ever bought was something with SPF so when I saw all the choices, I was a little overwhelmed. I looked around to see if anybody in a red CVS vest was around … maybe they could give me some facial guidance, but all I saw was a teenage boy with acne trying to talk to some girls while restocking the paper towels. I guess I should have gone to Macy’s or something. They got all those chicks in the lab quotes and big mirrors looking all professional with tons of makeup caked on, but I was on a budget and couldn’t be spending a hundred dollars on a small jar of you-won’t-look-like-crap-anymore cream. I needed a big jar at an affordable price. I needed a Costco size.
So after about thirty minutes of examining jars and tubes and soy extract formulas, I went home without anti-ageless assistance. The entire trip was a bust. It seemed that being anti-ageless was a little too complicated for me. Maybe I’ll be ready in a few weeks, after I’ve done some research, until then me and my stressed out skin will have to work on relaxing so as not to look so jacked up. But then again maybe I shouldn’t be checking myself out and examining my face while I’ve got the flu. Germs tend to affect your appearance.