My boy has started playing soccer. That makes me, officially, a soccer mom.
I feel like I should start driving my husband’s Subaru and invest in some khaki pants. I need to start doing crunches and buy a lawn chair with extra large cup holders and a place to attach an umbrella. Continue reading “Soccer Mom”→
I visited the beauty aisle in Target the other day, which is something I don’t do often, and not because I usually buy my beauty products somewhere fancier. No: I’m a consumer of Maybelline and Cover Girl and Neutrogena. Oil of Olay and Chapstick have earned a good deal off of me. But stick me in a Sephora and I feel nervous. I will skirt the edges of a department store to avoid the Clinique counter (and whatever brands they have nowadays–Justin Bieber? Does he do skincare?). This is not an entirely unfounded fear. I have horrible skin. I once decided to approach a department store beauty consultant, just in case she had something magic in her sample case, and as she surveyed my face her expression darkened. She was clearly afraid of me. I asked questions and she barely spoke. If I looked deeply into her eyes, I’m sure I would have seen these words scrolling through her brain: Go away, go away, go away.Continue reading “Age Defying Acne Cream and Other Products They Don’t Make”→