On the surface it might appear as though I actually do take pretty good care of my skin:
I don’t wear make up on a daily basis. And when I do its generally very light. The only time I go heavy with it is when I’m on stage and even then I try to clean it off just after curtain call.
I am very routine nearly to the point of OCD about sunscreen. It is the curse of the natural redhead, I burn looking out the window at a sunny day. And I never tan, its lobster one day and Casper the next. So I have no desire to pay to bake in a box and take caution with the real thing.
I wash my face every day. Okay, honestly, sometimes an Olay wipe is what I consider “washing” my face before bed. Okay, even more honestly, sometimes my daughter’s baby wipes are what passes. But its still better than nothing right?... Right?
I use lotion almost every day. Its not the good stuff, its the knock off good stuff. I’m poor.
So with all of this one would think that among the list of things to worry about in this choatic, stressful, on going maddness fest that is my life that my face would be so far down on my list it would be a note absent-mindedly scribbled in the margin. But the flip side of the coin (the bullet-pointed coin listed above) is that I also tend to pick at my face and blemishes and commit other no-nos for skin care.
And as I’m about to turn thirty cue forboding music... So my skin is not going to bounce back like it used to. And nature is definitely going to start wreaking havoc with skin because that is the way it plays its sadistic little game. Not to mention how much of a glaring reminder it is to look at my two-year old’s beautiful face and know that there’s no going backwards to that, only trying to maintain/improve what I’ve already got.
So here goes, no more willy-nilly with the personal regime and I’m going to do this the right way! (fingers crossed)