In which we write love letters to our very favorite beauty items….
Dearest Vitamin C Serum,
Girl, you are an INSPIRATION! How do you do it, brightening up every face in the room just like that?
I don’t know what it is, but it’s pretty magical. I can’t help but want to hang around you all the time – you’re an incredible influence and me and my complexion. What used to be dull and lackluster has been revived and renewed. You’ve changed my perspective: the future’s looking pretty radiant from where I’m standing.
Thanks for making me feel that much better about everything. I’d say more, but I think you may have gotten the gist of how I feel here.
. . .
My fluffy bathrobe, wherever you are:
I can’t believe I lost you.
I could make all the excuses in the world – you were camouflaged by the pile of hotel terry cloth towels; why’d you have to be the same shade of cream? I was in such a rush to make the early checkout time; I was late for a meeting! – but the truth of the matter is that I was the one who left you behind when you’ve been nothing but good to me.
I’ve yet to replace you; none I’ve met have been as warm or fluffy or perfectly off-white as you. Instead, I’ve been forced to face the consequences. I’m reminded of my carelessness every time I step out of the shower and freeze (it’s a brutal winter this year), or have my clothing splashed with soap/water/cleanser/something twice daily, morning and evening. No DIY facial feels as self-pampering or luxurious as they used to with you. I mean, who does spa night without a bathrobe?
. . .
Dear Oil Free Moisturizer SPF 17,
Phew, what a long name. I have to admit – if we were to judge a book by its cover, I’d come to exactly one conclusion about you: you’re just not that exciting.
Straightforward and minimalist and delivering exactly what you claim to d0. You’re the stuff girls dream about; how often is it that we get exactly what we crave? No funny business, no gimmicks: just you, me, and my very, very happy complexion.
You see, before you came into my life I was terrified of commitment. (In fact, I never used moisturizer before you – that’s how scared I was.) But you were just so calm, so unassuming, so patient. Even through dry, rough patches and angry breakouts you were steadfast and true. You stood up for me on even the sunniest of days; you were my foundation no matter what I did or wore over you.
Hey, OFM SPF 17, I love you. Will you move into my beauty drawer permanently?
Anxiously awaiting your answer,
(P.S.: Can we just keep things easy and call you BAE? Thanks!)
. . .
Hey, Drying Mask –
I’ve had my first nasty breakout breakup in months since we last hung out. It wasn’t until I was two days into feeling super self-conscious (yet stubbornly anti-concealer) that I suddenly remembered just how incredible you are at fixing these kinds of things. I saw the empty container on my bathroom countertop; I’d used you down to every last bit. There was maybe one crusty speck left at the bottom of the jar, a reminder of just how good you were to me.
Are you free later? Where should I pick you up (is it more convenient for you here or here?)
This breakout’s a bit of a messy one, but I trust that you’ll help dry those tears and heal those blemishes ‘til I’m feeling every bit clear of heart of and mind.
See ya soon,