I Feel Pretty, Oh So Pretty. Yesterday was the first day in about 7 months (aside from that one day when 8 months pregnant) that I have felt pretty. I recently read somewhere that over 60% of new moms admit to have letting themselves go, especially in the first year. And although my beauty routine is far from extensive, I understand the need to cut corners with getting ready. So yesterday while walking to the N Judah with the air full of a sea breeze, and the sun glorious, I felt very, very pretty. It was almost skip worthy. And what do I attribute this shameless self loving? Well the answer is two-fold:

1. Dr. Dennis Grossman and his Alpha Hydroxy Pads. When I was about 19 years old I read in some female magazine that if a girl did not take care of her skin beginning at a young age she would be saddled with wrinkles by 40. For some reason this shook me to the very core. I still don’t know why, but I immediately went out to Woolworth’s in Downtown Boston and began what is now a 14 year obsession with washing and moisturizing my face. I don’t believe in the last 14 years there has been one night wherein I have not washed and moisturized. Even when under the influence and my face is suddenly three fold with distorted drunken eyes, it is washed. Even when under the strain of childhood, it was washed. And truth be told, I am a rather frugal person, not spending much money on anything, but when it comes to skin care penny pinching be banished. Currently my favorites are Skincare MD’s tinted moisturizer in light, Clarins Daycream, and those amazing Alpha Hydroxy Pads, which promise a facelift in a package. And they do deliver girls. So, enough about my obsessive compulsive skin care regimen, and on to factor two of why I felt pretty.

2. The Beasts Have Been Tamed. I love my father dearly, but what I do not love is the eyebrows that he has genetically bestowed upon me. I became an avid plucker after I bought Cindy Crawford’s guide to make-up circa 1993 when I finally decided to wear make-up and needed a tutorial. I plucked and plucked and plucked (cleared the debris from the sink) and plucked some more until my bushy little caterpillars became acceptably arched and angled. Looking back on photos of me prior to my 20th birthday, the question of “Why I never dated?” could be found clearly upon my face. However, now that I live in San Francisco, I get my eyebrows waxed. For a very ungirly girl, this is a very girly girl thing to do. But I accept it since it seems these days if you don’t get your eyebrows waxed you are banished to some sort of bohemian subset that reeks of hippie. And hippie, I am not.

So with my face crystal clear and glowing, my hair long and flowing and my eyebrows non-bushy and groomed, I stepped outside of my house, the air improved by the ocean breeze and the sun shining, feeling incredibly happy and pretty. It was a feeling long overdue. Of course tomorrow due to this boost I will probably be saddled with the pimple equivalent of Mt. Fuji. Ah, thanks again Sully!