Proud. Happy. Not late for anything.
2003-11-12

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Kegboy's mages.
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RedMEAT

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It's difficult to gather my winds to pour into here when I've already farted into there.

There is so much more, though. So many comating lessons, sentence fragments from a hundred conversations with "aestheticians", "specialists", "beautiful people".

It is difficult to separate the wheat of modern technology and the chaff of commercial bullshit.

Here's my version:

If an aesthetician (and yes I am almost spitting the word) can sit there and tell me that my skin is beautiful, then why is her second breath telling me which products I should use to continue making it beautiful?

If using nothing is obviously keeping it from drying out, getting dirty, losing tone, getting oily, etc -- then why use something to do those things?

Because it will do it better?

Because telling me I look like I'm twenty and like I get facials all the time will convince me of something intangible?

I use an expensive facewash, I admit it. I use it once a day. Not twice. It removes makeup, dirt from touching my face all day, sweat from sleeping.

I use cream after I wash my face. Once. I use it because otherwise my skin hurts, feels tight, gets dry and very red in places.

I do not use toner. I do not moisturize twice a day, wash twice a day, use anti-wrinkle or anti-liver-spots stuff.

One lady will tell me "you should start worrying about wrinkles when you're seventeen as prevention."

Another will say "now's about the right time". Right.

A third says "whenever they appear".

All of their theories fall apart when I look at myself and finally realize:

I'm proud to be and look precisely who I am.

This morning the eliptical machine humbled me again.

Tomorrow it will humble me less.

Next month I will be beating it to splinters, and by next year my heart rate will no longer frighten me.

Today I am good. I am happy. I am working hard and well and coming up with good ideas.

I am content, my belly still gloriously sore from a bout of bedside giggle-wrestling last night. The best sort of release.

I am proud that I am adapting again, staying in one place for more than a year reduces stresses that are no longer relevant to my life.

Fashion and appearance are a big part of that, Montreal's need to look different and sleek, Paris' insistence that everyone keep up.

Today I am wearing comfortable shoes.

Today I am wearing slacks. Plain slacks.

Today I am looking at myself as a person again.

Today I feel good. Just, plain, good.

I am learning to tone it down. Plan fewer things over longer stretches of time.

I'm not panicked about anything today. I have time to test drive a the new Prius hybrid car, we have time to refinish the bathroom, put stairs into the attic, re-do some wiring, finish the basement.

We have time to hang photographs and appreciate art, I have time to breathe and get the drive-clean certification and renew the registration on my car.

We have time to live, and love, cook and entertain and laugh and tickle and enjoy.

Today I am feeling the time warm my clean unburdened skin as it wafts timely by...

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3 comments on this spew so far

backup ..random chance.. rollover

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Last few Rants:

I guess this is goodbye. - 11:57 a.m. , 2005-02-10
Endorphins, stress, and magickal mystery - 5:07 p.m. , 2005-02-02
stress, incoming - 4:42 p.m. , 2005-01-28
heaving great happy sighs - 3:05 p.m. , 2005-01-24
Imposter syndrome strikes again - 1:20 p.m. , 2005-01-19