As part of my new “Is This Really a Thing and if So Should We All Go Out and Try It?” series I’m talking about dermaplaning. So, in case you don’t know what dermaplaning is, I’ll tell you: It’s a medical exfoliation process where the outermost layers and dead skin cells are (shaved) removed from your face — which includes the peach fuzz hairs we all have. You know the ones that every once in a while catch the light the right way in a mirror and make you feel like some weird albino sasquatch?
I’m pretty sure they’re on your face for a reason. Like to catch deadly skin eating bacteria before they reach your skin or to make fun of the small hairs on your upper-lip that are never as light.
Whatever the purpose, the consensus seems to be that your face will be way awesomer when without them. I hate technical terms.
Here are the claims:
Your skin will look more refined, brighter, and less flawed.
Foundation goes on smoother making the face look more even.
It allows other products to penetrate the skin more easily to ensure they go deeper and may be good to do before a chemical peel or laser treatment.
It diminishes superficial dryness, fine lines, hyper-pigmentation, and mild acne scarring.
It’s great for people who are sensitive to the chemicals in peels or get broken capillaries from exfoliants (or if you’re pregnant or breastfeeding).
Dermaplaning is similar to, but usually more effective than dermabrasion, with the added bonus of removing facial fuzz and no need for abrasives.
It can stop breakouts caused by build up of oil and dirt in the follicles.
I know, I’m making my appointment too.
Be aware, this process involves someone taking a scalpel to your skin directly. You should make sure that someone is highly trained and doesn’t have any grudges against you (that’s a tip).
Thoughts? Should we try it? Are you ready to shave your face ladies? Have you? Should I? (Frankly, I really sold myself on this process, in writing this piece and I think it would make a great video.)
I have a column on anti-aging (the only thing I’m anti) at Smart Beauty Guide if you want to hear about stuff I’ve tried, want, obsess over or learned about from people who are way smarter than myself:
So, last night at a friend’s house, I watched her son opened an awesome Nerf bazooka gun that shoots like 600 bullets at the same time. He was having a tough day, he was exhausted and then the gun had the nerve to break.
“Why me,” he screamed as he threw himself on his bed, arms splayed.
“Why me! Why me! I knew this bazooka wouldn’t work, I just knew it! Why do horrible things like this always happen to me? My friends’ Nerf guns work.”
He had a classic case… oh, I’ve seen it before, it’s pretty ugly. The question is, how does one catch this horrible illness and can we cure or prevent it?
Here’s my take: As we — many of us helicopter/ over-protective / over-compensating / over-complimenting parents raise this next generation, we’re teaching them that they are truly the center of the universe. I am not judging, I am one of those parents – many of us are (to varying degrees). Many of us, myself included, have an internal struggle where we pit our need to ensure our children’s happiness against the knowledge that attempting to provide these things for them 24/7 will probably inhibit their ability to do anything for themselves… EVER!
OK, I’m not a therapist, but I see one regularly, which means I’m totally qualified to say these things. Wait, it doesn’t? So, I should stop calling my friend who once played a Doctor in a Prilosec commercial for advice on my IBS? Whatever…
This is still one of my favorite V-Day moments (awkwardness, inappropriateness, and fear for my safety aside).
On February 14th a few years back, Ry, my daughter, then 5 years old, trotted into my room to wish me a happy Valentine’s Day, to hand me a stunning hand-made card, and to neck.
Sure, they tell you not to make-out with your kids, but sometimes there’s a fine line between so cute and so scary.
What parent doesn’t secretly love it when their child says they want to marry them (assuming they’re too young for marriage at the time)? I mean, for how many more years are they going to want to hug, snuggle, or hold hands?
“This card is sooo beautiful. Come give Mommy a kiss,” I said in a very innocent non-romantic way.
Ry, maybe wanting to show me the magnitude of the holiday, grabbed my face with both hands and planted the biggest soap opera smooch on me. I started to giggle mid-peck…
I’ve had some awkward V-Day Moments, from my 5yo trying to soap opera kiss me to my hubby trying to stuff himself and champagne into an undersized NYC bathtub in our undersized NYC apartment to my dauther telling me, I make her want to “puke of love”. That said, I’ve decided this year will not be awkward. No, we will all be realistic in our planning and our phrasing.
As I picked up a pack of those V-Day conversation hearts (the candies that are supposed to represent the sweet nothings you would whisper in your lover’s ear before bed, like: I LOVE U, B MINE, KISS ME…), I thought, this is anything but realistic phrasing. Those sayings are more saccharine sweet than the candy, so I made a list that resembles real pillow talk. These are the phrases that should be etched on those cute little hearts, after a few years of marriage.
Be warned: this list is not for newlyweds, so you can refrain from reading and telling me how blissful your marriage is. Give it a few years. Ahem- I mean, I’m happy for you.
The other day, my 10yo daughter, Ry asked me to convince her friend’s mom to let her have Barbie dolls. “I’m so lucky to have a mom like you that will play Barbies with me and doesn’t make me feel stupid or too old, like some of my other friend’s moms,” Ry explained.
Really? I hadn’t realized this was an actual issue. Sure, I’ve heard tales of parents being offended by Continue reading →
Growing up a Gen X ‘er, I can distinctly recall being allowed to do all kinds of things we would find crazy today. Like roaming the streets of our neighborhood for hours with no way of being contacted. No cell phones, or tracking devices on our backpacks or implanted in our brains (do they have that yet?). Nowadays they’d call that grounds for a CPS visit, back then, we called that Monday. Not only were our parents OK with these freedoms, they encouraged them. Did they not love us? Did they not care? Were they that hard up for a few minutes of peace that they would risk our lives?
Most the adults I know now would be vehemently against such insane acts, myself included. In fact, being unreachable by cell phone could push us straight into panic mode. Here are a few things we did as kids, which make me wonder how we survived. Today they’d get someone arrested or at least get your house taken off the play-date circuit…
After my “40 Signs You’re a Mom” list got such an incredible response, it dawned on me that those folks who have kids that are older, don’t have kids yet or don’t want them, have some pretty distinctive signifier of their own. Certain qualities/abilities that give us parents of young ones a chuckle at the mere thought of, like, not finding it triumphant to have an uninterrupted visit to the bathroom.
Here are some of the signs:
1. People still call you by your actual name.
2. You don’t have to look at anyone else’s poop.
3. You don’t sneak vegetables into your recipes like meatloaf, smoothies, brownies — you just eat them.
4. You don’t go to bed wondering how many times you’ll be woken up before morning.
Hairdresser having just cut and blown it out. It’s not bad, right?
The other day I got a haircut. Ry (my 10yo daughter) got in the car and simply said, “hair cut.” In a robotic, I see you got one, so I’m making an effort, but this conversation shall go no further, because I’m pretty much a teenager already, kinda way.
Me: Human child. (I said robotically, pointing out the obvious, in kind.) She picked up her iTouch and disengaged.
Me: What, you don’t like it?
Ry: Nope, I hate it. *looks back at iTouch*
Me: I always tell you not to say mean stuff.
Ry: Yeah, you also tell me if I don’t have something nice to say, not to say anything at all, which is what I was trying to do. (There was no, “duh” at the end, but it was implied.)
Me: For your information, my hair hates you too. (I said in an effort to have a convo one of the other personalities in my little “Sybil,” which they all become somewhere around 3 years old.) Continue reading →
Yes, I have problems sitting on the “sick side” of the pediatrician’s office. Yes, I assume the person before me at every restaurant, arcade, amusement park, and grocery store shopping cart has picked their nose and wiped it somewhere within reach. Yes, I’ve experienced the catch 22 where I want all tables wiped down before I’m seated, but have also convinced myself that the germs spread from those over used rags are far worse than the left over food residue that currently contaminates the space.
I’m neurotic. I get it, but am I the only one?
I think not. After talking to a few friends about poultry, my worst phobia, I realize that I’m a member of a very large crowd. A very large, very disturbed crowd.
To ring in the New Year I asked my children what their New Years Resolutions would be and Ry’s was three things: 1. Get more of those comfy sweats made of that stuffed animal like material. 2. Play with dolls more. 3. Be more charitable.
I’m not quite sure if she totally understands the whole New Years Resolutions thing, as the first two seemed a bit more self-serving, but the third more than made up for any lack of understanding. In fact, hearing her utter the third, gave me chills. You see, over the holidays, Continue reading →
The title sounds like something you would see on Pinterest — in “4 easy steps to beat bullies,” but it’s not. It’s not easy for our kids to combat bullying or even understand it. As a child of the 80’s, “bully” wasn’t the buzz word it is today. We all got bullied to some degree. We were teased and made fun of over the smallest things, from clothes, to acne, to not developing fast enough or too fast, to how you pronounced a single word. Teachers generally ignored it or wrote it off as part of the growing up process and left the dirty work to after school specials and “One to Grow On.”
Let’s face it, sometimes in-laws can drive us crazy. Mine love to whisper in front of me in a rather loud rendition of a whisper… (among other things).
But on Thanksgiving I get them back, or should I say, “I give it back” and isn’t that the point of Thanksgiving … the giving? Yes, it’s a Thanksgiving tradition.
You see, I’m a poultry-phobe. I fear fowl, and when cooking it, I’m usually convinced that poultry is simply a bunch of salmonella clumped together in the shape of wings, breasts, turkeys etc. You know, like the way meat was shaped for the McRib? In fact, whenever I see a picture on Facebook where someone has stupidly stuck an entire raw turkey on their head (and I’ve seen a few), I assume they are going to die. Continue reading →