The Spiderman is Having You for Dinner Tonight

“Come into to my parlor,” said the spider to the fly, “for I have a little something.”

Driving home tonight, I was enjoying my quiet ride. I had my iPod on shuffle and I was enjoying the tunes of Built to Spill. I was remembering high school and whether the band came out with anything recently. I realized they probably did and I hadn’t kept up with the times. I made a note to look into it when I got home. Thankfully, home was five minutes away. I was on the second to last road before reaching my humble abode.

As I said, I was nostalgic and tired. I decided I’d go to bed (I’m trying to get to bed early every night). There I was, enjoying some relaxing music and singing along, when I noticed the road flicker. It appeared that the road was changing (like the lights from oncoming cars were all strangely flickering in a weird pattern). “The road can’t be changing; this is nonsense,” I thought as I looked to my visor (where I noticed the slight change in light). I saw a spider and wasn’t alarmed, because it was outside.

Except it wasn’t outside.

It was inside.

Inches from my head.

My road narrowed (because some clown parked in a no-parking zone) and I started to get antsy. I decided to leave the spider alone, because it was merely crossing the visor.

Until it recognized my calmness and decided to change paths.

Suddenly, this spider was embarking on a journey down the visor (ever so close to my face). In my moment of panic, I lifted my right hand and gave him a swat to the right.

“Phew, I dodged him,” I naively thought.

By this time, I had three minutes left to get home (if that). I tried to think about the positive things: he wasn’t near my face, he’s off in the passenger seat, and he can’t get to me that quickly.

As the minutes rolled by, my paranoia began to increase: what if I miss-swatted? What if he was actually at my feet and about to bite my toes?! I’m wearing sandals! What if I never find him? What if he’s a she?! What if she has babies?!

I pulled into my parking spot and turned on the overhead light (something I loathe doing, because everyone can see into my car!). I look at the floor, but he isn’t there. I check the passenger seat floor and he isn’t there. My nightmares are coming true.

He’s gone rogue.

I put the car in park and frantically take a quick glance at my passenger seat.

That’s when I spot him.

Perched next to my purse, this spider is looking at me. I move my purse and items into my lap and stare at him. What am I supposed to do?!

He scuttles in the seat.

I look at my iPod. No, I can’t risk the guts on my iPod; that’s appalling.

I open the glove compartment and pull out a napkin. I will squash him. It’s decided.

He’s gone.

He’s disappeared.

I get out of the car and take out my cell phone. I can’t remember where my car flashlight is, so I remember the application on my phone. I turn on the light and open the passenger door.

He’s not there.

For a moment, I think I should go inside and forget about him. I almost do this, too, until I realize he’s a she and having babies all over my car.

Don’t put off tomorrow what you can do today.

In my moment of sheer madness, I pull the lever on the seat and push the seat forward (I have a two-door, if you haven’t guessed).

There he is.

I scream an accidental, but shrill shriek and stare at him.

He is a thick, giant, yellow spider: the size of a half-dollar coin.

Yes, folks, he isn’t a little spider. I wouldn’t be writing this if this was your average Joe.

No, he’s the one you see pictures of and thank God he doesn’t live in your state.

Under normal circumstances, I’d ask someone else to do the deed, but I couldn’t risk leaving him alone.

I picked him up with my napkin and—yes, guys—I threw it in the street. I know I should have thrown him out or killed him (most of all: I shouldn’t have littered), but desperate times call for desperate measures. The truth is, I couldn’t stand to feel his bone-like body in my hand for longer than absolutely necessary.

I’ll spare you the photo, but if you’re as sick as I am, you can Google it. I have deduced that it is a Yellow Sac Spider, but it’s just larger. That, or my brain thought it was larger. This is possible, but I know what I saw: I wouldn’t have swatted a small spider.

I am now itchy all over.

I’ll leave you with this, though.

Yesterday I became a woman

I had my first massage, facial, and pedicure.

Alright, I didn’t become a woman, but I felt like I was a disgrace to most women. Most women (and men) have had massages, facials and pedicures. I don’t understand the need for a pedicure—how lazy must you really be to need someone to do anything to your feet? It’s a lot like having your shoes shined at the airport.

Unnecessary.

For Valentine’s Day, Steven bought us the Heart-to-Heart spa package. The appointments were booked, so we ended up booking it for two months later. The following is a recap of the journey:

My masseuse said he was going to do a deep tissue, Swedish massage. He asked my pain threshold and I said I can take most things (I relied on my shin splints and extreme toe stub as a point of reference). First, I should mention I did not feel comfortable with my clothes off. I felt quite nervous, actually. I kept thinking, “I don’t really need a massage.  I don’t want some guy touching me.” He said that my first massage might hurt and it’s supposed to.

This was a surprise, but I thought he was just pegging me as a big sissy that couldn’t handle a little roughness.

Boy, was I wrong.

At first, it was a little pressure, but nothing I couldn’t take. I thought I might enjoy it. I was beginning to open up, when suddenly, his dew claws came out.

He zeroed in on my left tripezius and went to town. What I mean to say is that he went to town and back home and then back to town again. Repeatedly. For the longest time of my life. It felt like someone was taking an extra sharp ice pick and jabbing it all along that muscle. Back and forth.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Finally, I said, “could you use a little less pressure?” and he goes “sure.” I think, “thank God I opened my mouth. I never say what I’m thinking.” The ice pick was now a butter-knife.

If you’ve ever tried to cut bread with a butter-knife, you know that you can’t actually cut anything. He did the same thing with slightly less pressure. Then finally I say, “why does that side hurt so much?” “Oh, well it’s supposed to. On a pain scale, it should be about an 8. A five or a six, too. I mean, nine would be…”

Unbearable.

He wanted to say unbearable. I wanted to say unbearable. I wanted to say this is unbearable.

Then he moved to my legs. At this point, I tried to move the fingers of my left hand and realized I couldn’t. I tried to move my hand and hardly could. It hurt to move. I was distracted when he said I had quite long toes. This is true: I have long fingers and toes. I have a freak-flag and I’m proud of it.

More pressing was my inability to move my arm. If you’ve ever done extreme lifting, you know that feeling where lifting a pen is nearly impossible. My hand felt so heavy.

Alas, as I was lamenting over my new handicap, those monster claws made their way up to my back again and made sure to kill whatever feeling I had left (this is a lie: I felt everything. I felt nothing but pain. I felt all of my tendons separate and collapse under this beast’s fingers). It was like a sadist getting his fix. I just took it like a fool!

After the massage, I went to get my facial. I don’t recall saying thank you to Scissorhands. I typically say it out of habit, but I can’t remember saying it. On a deep, visceral level, I knew I was just wronged. I remember thinking I will never have another massage again. On my way to the facial, he said, “it takes about five massages for a massage to feel good.”

This reminds me of alcohol. It takes time and an acquired taste.

Let me tell you something: you can get used to anything, but why would you? If something is unpleasant, I will not get used to it, nor do I want to—least of all for social status or a social norm. No, thank you. I’ll pass. Freak-flag is mine.

The facial was nerve-wracking. I have extremely sensitive skin, so I mentioned that to her (Sylvia). She was amazing! She was funny and nice and informative. She was also very gentle. The bones in my face didn’t break under her dainty fingers. I had to wear a pair of heated mittens and then she put a pair of heated slippers on my feet. I started laughing at how ridiculous this whole situation was. There was a machine in my face blowing steam at me. The machine looked like it had two eyes and ears. The steam was blowing out of his nose.

I’m positive my next piece of writing will involve a spa.

Finally, I had a pedicure. She said my nails are too short! It’s true; I cut them so they don’t hit my sneakers when I’m running. I picked a coral color. I’m more of a muted color kind of girl, but I figure when-in-Rome, right? She also said I have very soft feet. I never gave much thought to my feet, but I was flattered nonetheless. While she did whatever she did to my cuticles, I couldn’t stop moving my feet! That was the worst tickling feeling ever. I was so uncomfortable. I must have looked quite ridiculous.

After I had my feet in that little drier, I put them in my shoes and felt my nails stick. Uh-oh. So, my two big toes are smeared coral. Oops. It’s okay.

Then, when I got home, I looked in the mirror to take a shower (I was greasy-faced and skinned that I just couldn’t take it).

I HAD (HAVE) BRUISES on my shoulders. The capillaries exploded and it looks like two giant hickeys!

My back is in so much pain. When I put my clothes on, it’s a whole debacle. Reaching for things or stretching hurts immensely! I even had a nightmare about it, last night.

Steven’s massage was okay. He said it was a little rough–certainly not his best massage, but not as terrible as mine. He fell asleep during his facial, and his pedicure went so well that he chose sparkly gold as his nail color–not kidding.

So, today, I called the spa and let them know that the massage was quite rough and that my results aren’t physically appealing. I just hope no one else gets the iron hand on their back. The receptionist said the boss will probably call me back.

All in all, I would never have any of those again. I don’t feel like any more of a woman being “pampered.” Though, if that’s being pampered, I don’t want any part of it.

I’m more than happy painting my own toe nails (clear, thank you!) and washing my face with soap and water. And as for a massage, I think I’ll stick with a cold shower after a hot run and a nice smoothie for dessert.

Such is Life

Three weeks ago, I stubbed my toe into devastation.

I could hardly walk for a few days (let alone run). Two weeks later, I picked up where I left off and decided to continue my running schedule.

My toe had other plans.

The second run was pretty painful. My toe swelled to double its original size and I took three steps back (I could hardly walk again). This was on Monday. Since then, I’ve kept my foot elevated and remained barefoot whenever possible. It is healing (I guess) and today I can walk without too much of a limp. I have decided not to run until it is completely healed (to avoid another setback).

Instead, I’ve been doing Amanda Russell workouts to stay in shape. She kicked my butt last Thursday. In fact, I couldn’t sit without cursing that workout, because my bum was in such pain. I’ve also mixed in other workouts to tide me over, but it’s not the same as running. Since the weather has warmed, I have lost the hoodie and the facemask. I figure by Monday my toe should be completely healed (right?) and I’ll be able to run then. I hope, anyway. I feel like one mishap after another is taking over my running life.

I’ve also tried the Joshi Detox, but I only stayed with it for just under two weeks. He tries to get you to quit eating acidic foods and sugar, while simultaneously changing your palate to prefer healthier foods that promote digestion and better organ function (essentially). He has a list of foods that you can eat and a list to stay away from. He has a list of recipes in the back, but they are pretty boring. Despite being able to eat a lot of foods, it can seem draining. You can’t have any condiments, save for a pinch of salt and pepper (or herbs). It’s a gluten-free diet and this is probably the hardest part of the whole thing. You can’t have half of the things that you’re used to eating. If you look at any ingredient label, you’re bound to find wheat. There is absolutely no wheat allowed on this detox. It might sound easy, but check out your cabinets.

I implore you.

Pancakes, bread, cereal (even the “good” kinds), white rice, pasta, soy sauce, ice cream, ketchup, seitan, gravy powder, processed meats, soups, and plenty of others.

Looking at labels is something everyone should already be doing, but seeing wheat as an ingredient is probably the most heartbreaking thing when you’re hungry and realizing that your entire kitchen is a gluten war-zone.

Also, no fruit during the three weeks except for bananas. Thankfully, I love bananas, so this was okay; however, now that I am not detoxing, my freezer is stocked with mangos, pineapples, blueberries, cherries, and strawberries.

Initially, I began sleeping better. I didn’t even realize I was on a detox. I don’t think I’ve ever slept as well as I have slept while doing this detox. Since then, my sleep isn’t as great, but I’ll never forget those nights I had. Thanks Joshi. A more pressing topic was my skin. My face broke out with flesh-colored pimples. At first, I ignored them, because I knew it was my body flushing itself of toxins. After about a week, it got to be rough. I couldn’t stand to touch my face after brushing my teeth. I felt little bubbles and, at one point, I think my face itched. (Disclaimer: this could be my utter disgust with my face and I THOUGHT it itched, but I don’t know.)  It started to clear up after I drank a liver cleansing drink.

The day I quit the detox was a depressing one. It was Saint Patrick’s Day. A gluten-free pizza was put in the oven. This pizza looked delicious and smelled great.

Looks can be deceiving.

This was not edible.

For dessert, I tried to make carob fudge. This was also inedible. The next day, I tried to stick to it, but ultimately gave up. I had Chinese food and have never looked back. I did discover that my diet is typically Joshi-approved, except I do have gluten via whole grain bread. Sorry, Joshi. When you can give me a better alternative to this bread (and none of that brown rice bread), I will give up Sara Lee.

Overall, I would suggest the Joshi Detox for anyone that wants to change their lifestyle and/or eat healthier.

I have, however, grown partial to grapefruit. This is unfortunate, because the birth control I’m currently on can have severe side-effects if I eat grapefruit. I only mention this in case there is someone out there that has also discovered the joys of grapefruit. Don’t shoot the messenger. I used to hate grapefruit, but while on the detox, was encouraged to have it (in a drink, anyway). I actually enjoyed it more than an orange or a cutie (which I haven’t been feeling these days anymore).

Another thing I have discovered (which I previously disliked) is avocado. I had my first one today and sliced a fourth of it on some toast. I only had one piece, but liked it so much that I had two pieces tonight after class. I also drizzled some honey (mostly to be fancy…okay, and because I love honey like a long-lost family member) on the avocado and toast…aiojsiushoi! It was the best! Tonight, I saw a photo of toast with avocado and scrambled eggs.

Guess what I’m having tomorrow for breakfast?

I still do not like guacamole, but I think these things take time.  I mean, it’s taken me years to try an avocado. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve bought them, but they go bad while I look at them.

Follow Your Craziest Dreams

Most people don’t realize how lucky they are until too late and they realize they’ve taken something for granted. I’ve been one of those people and—to an extent—I probably still am. When I left New Jersey nearly three years ago to embark on a journey that would change my view of my state, I was enthralled with the idea of leaving. I was working at a dead end job, hanging out with the equivalent in people, and I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do with my life.

I wasn’t (and am not) content with living a mediocre life. I don’t know if I ever really want to settle down. I feel like I was meant to live several different lives to encapsulate all that I want in the one life I’ve been given. In another life, I should be married with a child by now. I should be living in a small house in the country, sipping tea and working as a veterinarian and a farmer. In that same breath though, I should be in New York City, living in a closet, writing a novel, and waiting tables.

You see, I’m not really acclimated to society by choice.

Always feeling like the odd (wo)man out, I never really followed my dreams (and there were plenty to choose from). I was raised to put your dreams on hold and follow something lucrative. I can’t blame my parents for that, though. If I was born in a communist state, a political refugee with nothing but the shirt on my back, I would want something more for my children. I would want to give them (what I thought) was the best: a college education.

Fortunately for me, I have that now; I’ve followed the tried and true path. At the rate I’m going, I could (within the next several years) work for a great company (or create my own) and earn enough to support a family.

That’s not what I want, though.

For once, I want to follow a dream that will shake me, change me, and (with any hope) define me, or (as the case will be) allow me to define it. When someone asks me what to do, I always tell them to do whatever it is (unless it’s detrimental to their well-being/health or someone else’s). Your biggest regrets in life are of the things you didn’t do. I know this, but by no great regret of my own. I’ve almost always done everything. I’ve professed undying (subsequently unrequited) love, I’ve sang to strangers in cafes, and I’ve directed a movie (not yet complete). These are things I would go to my grave wondering “what if” about.

There’s one more “what if,” though. I put it on the shelf. I wanted to make sure I had a solid, lucrative degree; I wanted something to fall back on. I have, roughly, three months left as an undergrad (I always thought I’d be an undergrad forever). I have no limitations. What better time to follow one last dream than right now?

I always try to find myself in different fields. One day I want to open a bakery and the next I’m interested in a book store. There are things I’ll never do: marine biologist, veterinarian, social worker, and every other idea I’ve had during one daydream or other. There is an option though—for people like me, I think. Since my life isn’t large enough to be all of the people I’d like to be, I could act. I could be the wife of a farmer and I could be a personal trainer. I could be a doctor or I could be a killer.

Is it going to be difficult to pursue this avenue? Of course, it will. I’m determined to give it a shot, though. What have I got to lose? My plan is to move out to California during the summer (I’m thinking mid-July) and spend a year auditioning and working to keep a roof over my head. I might come back with shattered dreams, but I might find whatever it is I’m looking for. Clearly, after twenty-four years, I’m no closer to being decisive about my life than at sixteen sitting with a guidance counselor in high school.

The thing that surprises me is the support. My family has been more supportive than I thought possible. I expected fighting tooth and nail for some respect in my ideas, but instead, I was overwhelmed with the acceptance and guidance to do what I want. My dad (who I thought would be entirely against it) confided that he always wanted to do something different, but hasn’t yet; he still wants to, though he’s not sure what. My mom said to give it a shot and maybe someday she’ll move out there.

There is one thing I know for sure: this is something I must do. I have no grand expectations. With any luck, I’ll focus on creating more in one year than I’ve ever done. I’ll apply to jobs I can’t possibly get (photography, writing, editing) and audition during the time off. I’m excited to embark on this journey, but I’m also trying to enjoy the last few months of Jersey, as well.

What he said.

It stumps me to understand why anyone would use their horn for anything other than alerting another on the road. I know I’ve honked at people I’ve seen, but I’m careful to slow down, make the eye contact and then wave. Usually they’re overjoyed and we go about our separate ways, but I can’t say I honk at people.

So, if there are any honkers out there, just think before you honk. As a lady, I’ve been honked at and no, I can’t say I have ever even looked in the direction of which car it was. Even if we (and I’m going to speak for all women right now) were interested, like Seinfeld said, what would you have us do? Run to your car and let you know we’re available for dinner?

C’mon.

On to my run: Endomondo didn’t work today. For some reason, the GPS couldn’t find me. I’m actually kind of glad, though. I don’t think I’m comfortable with other people knowing where I’m running (not that anyone cares, but you never know). So, today was fifty degrees and windy. I think, with the wind chill, it was about negative ten degrees.

Okay, not really, but it was colder than I anticipated.

Due to the weather channel’s temperature and the warmth I felt stepping outside, I decided to forgo my mask and running jacket.

Mistake.

During the first nine minutes of the run, I felt okay, but the second nine had me feeling progressively worse. My head and neck felt stiff; I felt this pressure in the back of my neck and the feeling that my head was swimming. I didn’t think I was going to finish the run. Of course, everyone knows that once you start running, you can’t get home without running. If you walk, you’re going to beat yourself up the whole time and people are going to actually see you walking.

I know, “who cares who sees you walking?”

I do. I’m not wearing my running clothes and going for a walk. I could wear my winter jacket and not freeze on my fancy, little walk home.

So, I did what I knew I had to do and finished the run. After the second interval was finished, I wanted to curl into a ball and call it quits. I know it sounds dramatic, but it’s the truth. I knew I’d make it home out of sheer desperation—like those people with incredible strength in a stressful situation; however, I figured I’d probably have permanent brain damage due to my brain freezing (what? Yes, these are my thoughts out there).

The last eight minutes of the run were brutal. Every song on my playlist was awful. Songs that I’ve loved were boring and repetitive. I found myself skipping every song. In fact, I switched to an entirely different playlist altogether. I played “Train in Vain” by The Clash on repeat for the last few minutes. To keep myself from thinking of how horrible I felt, I sang along and tried to think of the many times I sang it in my car (I get quite animated).

When I finally did get home, I collapsed onto the couch, but the room seemed to spin clockwise around me. To avoid the vertigo feeling, I retreated to the floor of my living room and didn’t move for what felt like hours (it was more like ten minutes, but it was intense). Thankfully, I did find some strength to move (only due to the fact that I can’t lie straight on my back for too long, because my head hurts—pillows are okay, though) and lied on my side for some time. After my shower and some lunch, I felt better.

I realize that I have to work on my playlists. As much as I loved them, they’re just not doing it for me. I also can’t ever neglect to wear my mask again. I don’t care how warm the weather people claim it is; I will be wearing that thing for my own sanity. The run itself wasn’t even hard. The feeling in my head was the worst, though.

Now, could I sound any more like a whining baby?

Between you and me: I could.

First Solo Run

I went on my first solo run today. Actually, my “first” solo run was at a park several months ago. I don’t consider that my first run, because I was running laps.

Today was around my town.

I’ve always been skeptical of running alone, because I have my earphones in. I’ve watched far too many Lifetime movies about kidnapping and trafficking.

Alas, my run was successful and refreshing.

Normally, if I skip a day of running, I have a hard time getting into it the next day. My brain immediately says, “well, if I skipped yesterday, I can skip today. It won’t hurt to skip.”

I don’t run for the sake of exercise, though. I run for myself. I run, because I feel accomplished when I’m finished. There’s something to be said about distance running; everyone thinks they can run continuously until they try it for the first time.

My run was supposed to be tracked by my Endomondo application, but the GPS malfunctioned and I never checked to see (I was listening to my iPod and didn’t concern myself with the phone).

I won’t lie to you, though: I ran for 24 minutes (at 8 minute intervals) and walked for four. I ran about half a mile past my old house and doubled back. If I had to ballpark it, I would say I ran about two and a half miles.

From now on, I think I’m going to go back to my old routine of running. When I finish my cup of coffee and have a banana, I’m going to stretch out my shins and hit the road. I don’t like running in the middle of the day. It’s warmer, but I prefer a morning run.

With any luck, the application will log my next run, but I’m not holding my breath. I’ll dust off my pedometer and use it next time.

Also, I posted my Go-To Running playlist to Songza. Of course, I add new songs every now and then, but this is a base of what I hear on the road. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes I’ll hear a song and think, “why did I put this on here?”

My favorite song is probably Matt & Kim’s – Let’s Go. There’s a sentimental reason behind it, though. When I was just about reaching my last stages in running (back in October), I listened to their new album on repeat. For the last two weeks of runs, I played them and specifically this song. The “ooh ooh ooh” parts? I sang them while on my last laps when I tired and knew I had nothing left (and yet, my legs still worked!).

http://songza.com/listen/go-to-running-carmen.yeah.7/

Weatherproofing Yourself

Extremely sensitive skin that is exposed to the elements doesn’t do well. I know this, because I have horribly dry hands, lips and face. My hands end up with cuts from being too tender.

I sound really disgusting, but I promise I’m not.

Skin:

If you have sensitive, dry skin, then you’ll know what I mean. My hands get scratched up easily. I used to own almost every Bath & Body Works lotion (what’s up, Black Friday sales?!). I still have plenty of their lotions, body sprays, and soaps. Not to knock Bath & Body Works, but their lotions smell good and that’s about as far as their products go for me. I like smelling fancy as much as the next gal, but I need some extreme moisture in my hands.

For Christmas last year, my sister complained about her dry skin. All she wanted for Christmas was healthier looking skin. I picked her up a bottle of Dial NutriSkin Replenishing Lotion for Extra Dry Skin with Shea Butter.

She couldn’t have been happier.

She rarely uses it, though (out of forgetfulness). Meanwhile, my hands are torn up left and right, so I started using it.

I love it.

The lotion penetrates the layers of skin without being greasy. My hands eat it up and I don’t have oily hands. I also forget to use it, but I’m trying to use it every day at least twice a day.

Face:

Recently, I noticed that the skin around my nose and lips is chapped. My skin flakes and there is no way to get rid of it. I’ve tried splashing soap and water, but to no avail. I should mention that I am not the girliest of girls, therefore I do not exfoliate, use toner, moisturizer or any type of products on my face except for eyeliner.

My skin always has negative reactions to products. I’ve once used a Victoria’s Secret makeup remover that caused my face to have an infinite amount of flesh colored pimples for a week. You couldn’t see them, but I could feel them with my fingers. Let me just say that I will never use another Victoria’s Secret makeup product; it’s just not for me.

A magazine suggested Garnier Nutritioniste Moisture Rescue Refreshing Gel-Cream for active people during the winter to restore moisture. They have two versions: dry and normal skin. I picked up dry, but put it back and decided on the normal. The dry has double moisturizing ingredients in it. I may say I have dry skin, but I’m not a crocodile. The last thing I want to do is have my skin turn oily.

I’ve used this product twice yesterday (it says once in the morning and once at night) and my face is fine. The dry, chapped skin around my lips and nose is gone. My skin is back to normal. It’s soft, clear and not oily. I can’t say that it made it softer, because I have no idea how soft my skin was to begin with, but it did what it claimed. It restored enough moisture to rid my face of those flakes.

Eyeliner:

This one is hard to find. I really love it, though and it was worth the ten trips to Walmart to find. It’s by Hard Candy and it’s their felt tip eyeliner. You can find it on Amazon for double the price at Walmart (not including shipping). No other store (that I know of) carries it. If you wear brown or any other color but black, you won’t have too hard of a time getting your hands on it; however, black is a rare commodity and I wish you luck.

The eyeliner does not smear or come off during the run. I put it on before I leave my house. I don’t put it on for the sole purpose of running. It stays on all day without having to reapply it. I also like that it’s easy to use. I typically use liquid eyeliner and I’ve mastered it (mostly), but it fades and is not as vibrant as this brand.

Lips:

I have not found a perfect product for my lips. I have a recipe I’d like to try, but I won’t post about it until I have some results. As for now, I use Nivea lip balm and that keeps my lips smooth for about a half hour, but it requires a lot of reapplication (which I don’t have time for).

If anyone has suggestions for lips (specifically in cold weather and for constantly chapped lips), please feel free to leave a comment.

Hair:

My hair is naturally curly and I don’t straighten is as often as I used to (as I go straighten it after this). I have a lot of thick hair on my head. It’s long, I’ve dyed the poor strands obsessively a few years ago; it’s in good shape, though. For most of my life, I’ve never found a product that would allow me to wash my hair, air dry it, and then go out.

I finally found it.

L’oreal Advanced Haircare Total Repair 5 Restoring Shampoo. I use the Damaged and Overworked. I use the shampoo, conditioner, and the daily renewal tub of conditioner, as well. L’oreal says to use it every day, but I’d be lying if I told you I washed my hair every day. I wash my hair after I run (unless I’m in a rush—I’m not a sweater, so I hardly ever sweat).

Shampoo is only used on the hair up to my shoulders and I only condition whatever is past my shoulders. I leave both in for three minutes. After I rinse that out, I use the small tub, beginning with my ends and working up to my roots. I leave that in for another three minutes and rinse it out. I don’t towel dry my hair. I wring it out and then let it air dry while doing whatever I want to do.

After it’s air dried, I straighten my bangs (everyone has to do this, c’mon) and then I spray the body of my hair with Ion Anti-Frizz Solutions Leave-In Conditioner. It’s a weightless strengthener and detangler; I’ve had it for years. You can get it at Sally’s. I don’t use it every time I wash my hair, but when I remember (hence having it for years).

My routine is fairly simple. I never want to be crazy high maintenance, so I try to do the bare minimum that achieve terrific results.  All of these products are under 10$ each (about half are under 5$).

My next post will be about weatherproofing your wardrobe!