Twentysomethinghood

Oh, being a twentysomething.

I'm about to cross the line of just mid-twenties to upper mid-twenties and I'm kind of freaking out, man because this whole growing up this is bologna. Seriously. Who invented this shit? I've got bills on top of bills on top of some cellulite and a handful of wrinkles and WHY DIDN'T ANYONE TELL ME THIS WAS GOING TO HAPPEN? I'm about 90 per cent sure that I spotted a grey hair last week, but my eyesight's so bad I couldn't quite manage to find it to rip it out. There was a time - perhaps not so very long ago - when I thought being a twentysomething was the most glamorous thing in the world. Pfft.

I'm drinking tea, writing this blog with Nair all over my legs and a facemask on. This is so not what I expected the fabulosity of twentysomethighood to be.

A kid YOUNG LADY I used to babysit turned 18 today. WHAT THE WHAT? Is that even possible? Someone stop the world, I need to get off for a minute. I can remember packing up my old Barbie dolls and Polly Pockets - the ones that actually fit in your pocket - to give to this girl when she was preschool-aged. I remember giving her boy advice when I was post-highschool-grad and she was getting ready to enter junior high school. She tweeted a goodbye to her 17th year last night. She has no idea how gone it is.

Because, my gorgeous, young friend... there comes a time in your early adult life when you will find yourself sitting on your bathroom floor attempting an at-home bikini wax (which, FYI, is the dumbest thing you will ever try to do at home, by yourself) and you will also find yourself eating dinner in the bathtub sometimes because you actually don't have enough time to eat and bathe. You will put on a great show of being a grownup, only to call your Mom later because you just totally effed something up and nobody knows how to fix things like a Mom does. And you will undoubtedly sacrifice food that is actually real food with taste so you can buy that fabulous pair of boots and then try to lie to your mother by saying they were on sale. She'll know better.

I think it's a generational thing, this idea that your twenties will be this golden time in your life when everything is roses and everything will just play out magically. It doesn't, and it's not.

But it's amazing and it's worth it. And when all else fails, there is nail polish.

Pain is Beauty: Tria Beauty Review

Pain is beauty, right?

I've always been a believer in the "no pain, no gain" attitude, so I don't hesitate to push myself when I'm running to go just a little faster or a little further, and I'm not afraid to spend some time in front of the mirror torturing myself plucking my eyebrows from time to time. I wear high heels that occasionally result in blistered feet, soak my nails in acetone that eats away at my cuticles when my gel nail polish needs a change, and I've been known to wiggle into movement-restricting Spanx for the sake of a smoother silhouette.

I'm not alone.

I've spent stupid amounts of money on makeup and hair products, body lotions and everything in between. But I'm lazy. I like to sleep in a few extra minutes, so I forsake my perfect hair or nice eye makeup pretty regularly. Sometimes, even on a hot day, I'll wear long dresses to avoid shaving my legs.

I'm not a particularly tall person, but I've got long legs and shaving them can be time consuming so I decided to wax them. That was a bust - spreading hot wax across my hairy legs and then tearing it off was messy and hurt more than I seem to recall labour and childbirth, so I gave that up. Did I mention that there was a lot of hair still hanging around? Then I contemplated a No-No, but the idea of burning my hair off didn't sound very pleasant at all.

So I bought an at-home laser remover by Tria Beauty.

Let me say, the results are fantastic. But holy-effing-Christmas-trees-and-honey it hurts.

It too is a bit time consuming, and I've realized that I made a fatal (not actually) mistake in my using it in the spring/summer. I'm a little too tanned to continue. I also need to cut out a section of time every two weeks to use it, and no way do I have time for that nonsense during the summer! There's sun to soak up and BBQ's to attend, so I've packed it away for a couple of months... knowingly sacrificing all the progress I've made.

If you're thinking about using the Tria, I strongly recommend it. An Advil or two about 30 minutes before your treatment helps with the pain, and the results truly are fantastic. The price tag is worth it too, and the newer models treat a larger area with each time. I'll definitely resume my treatments in the Fall when I have a bit more time.

What's the craziest beauty product you've ever tried? What about a favourite? I'd love to know!

Girl Power?

Here comes an early-morning rant. You've been warned.
(I'm not even caffeinated yet)
 
I'm not sure if it's my overtired self being a little more irritable lately, or if it's the fact that my tolerance for nonsense has lowered but I have found it more and more painful to read the tweets and Facebook statuses in my news feeds lately as my generation of "feminisists" go on man-hating, male-bashing tirades.
 
I've never dropped myself into the category of feminist, but I wouldn't say that I'm not a feminist either. I prefer to say that I'm a woman of the 21st century, and that's good enough for me. I'm a feminist in lots of ways, but if feminism means that I hop on a soap box and run men down, count me out.
 
"Men only make two mistakes: everything they say, and everything they do" popped up in my Twitter feed this morning. Not once, but three times, in the 7 hours since I had previously tuned in. Facebook statuses announcing all men are idiots crowd my newsfeed every day. Come on girls, really?

If you really want to be a feminist, how about celebrating women a little more and beating up men a little less? How about not stooping to the level where you have to bash men - cause, last time I checked we were all against the whole "anti-woman" thing, weren't we? No?
 
I'm really proud to be a woman. I'm proud of the women in my life who inspired me and shaped me into the person I am today - including the women who were stay-at-home-moms (HORRORS), and the ones who went out on lobster fishing boats just like the 30+ men in the community. I'm proud that I have a girly-girl streak and I'm not ashamed to say that I hate getting my hands dirty (chipped nailpolish isn't my style).
 
I'm also really proud of my boyfriend, dad, brother, son, uncles, and male friends who screw up and make mistakes all the time not because they're men, but because they're HUMAN. Like me. Like you. 
 
I'm all for equality. I don't think women or men are necessarily smarter, or better or cooler or whatever based on gender alone. I don't think all men are good at math and all women are good at cooking. Everyone is an individual. Unique. Can't we celebrate that individuality in women and in men? Is that so hard?
 
 I think I should receive an equal wage as a man in the same position I hold, if we're standing on the same level of talent, skill and qualifications. Let's try tackling that instead of attacking every guy. Let's stop grouping them all into the same category, lest all feminists be thrown into the file of "man-haters".
 
What goes around, comes around y'all.
 
End rant. Time for coffee. Fully aware that I'm now hated by the feminist community.
 
Happy Wednesday.