Bentonite Clay

I am letting this bentonite clay crack and burn on my face, in my hair and down my neck whilst writing this.

Why, you may ask?

Vanity. Pure and simple.

More complex is: why the vanity?

Several reasons really.

-Age -I’m 40. The difference from 30 to 40 is dramatic. From 20-30, you get a brain, but retain the body. From 30-40, you start feeling what it is to age. 40 really likes to hand you (your now sagging) ass on a platter.

-Post partum- It is NOT pretty. Think teenage pimples (without the teenage boobs). Hair so thin that you seriously consider using your grampa’s toupee - and yet there seems to be enough that it still comes out in such huge clumps as to clog your shower drain. There is no amount of superwoman / cross-fit style exercise that is gonna get me back in a bathing suit. The stretch marks alone are a hazard. The mask is for the teenage pimples.

-Age = wrinkles. I have to admit that I actually am pretty lucky so far. I don’t have that many fine lines on my face. On the other hand, I avoid at all costs ANY magnifying mirror -excepting cases when I pluck eyebrows and then I don’t allow my eyes to wander - so I really can’t tell you how many fine lines I have.

-Experimentation - I never was much of a masker… I suppose it has to do with my mother not being much of a masker - she was more a soak in the bathtub (for HOURS) reading a book -type, so I didn’t have much reference. I want to know what the big deal with masking is, so I thought I’d give it a shot.

-I don’t have the time or money for the spa. This, while my baby sleeps and the tornado is at school, gives me some “me” time.

It’s actually kind of interesting when I try to raise my eyebrows or smile. It feels like I’m pulling all the skin off…

It really has, in the past, made my hair soft.

SO check-it.

Bentonite clay (can get it at amazon) with Apple Cider Vinegar. Mix to a thick paste (it will fizz like with baking soda) and spread it on evenly. Let it dry. The container says 20 minutes, but I like to leave it on longer… I’m almost up to an hour now, but gonna rinse here in a second.

So that’s my idea for the day. Best not crack and shed all over the couch.

I suppose I should start this blog with an explanation.

Then again, explaining myself suggests that I’m defensive and I lose any mystery I might otherwise conjure.

Oh well.

Here’s the thing:

These are ideas…

ideas, for me, are a mutating, morphing thing.

These are opinions…

opinions, informed by experience and knowledge…

experience is ongoing…

knowledge is ever growing

so

opinions can change.

These are observations…

filtered through the lens of my life.

I have two kids still in diapers (one on the way God willing and the creek don’t rise). I have a job. I have two silly dogs and an excellent husband. IE - I’m busy.

I’m also not one of those super organized, highly efficient, never-need-sleep, super moms - that can do every lovin’ craft, while working full time, while volunteering at school (or homeschooling for chrissakes), while writing 4 novels a year, while hiking the John Muir trail, while keeping a full and organic vegetable garden.

I am not that woman.

This is where I will attempt to reconnect with words. I love words. I love them almost as much as I love breathing. I love that they can be confused, misinterpreted, misspelled and generally abused. And, though I have stories to tell, I think, while my spare time in between:

cleaning

working

cooking

engaging

loving

bathing

exercising

guilting

I plan on slowly resurrecting my connection to words. Perhaps no novel right now, but I can have ideas, opinions and observations.

So, while my husband is at work, my toddler is at school, the baby (and the dogs) are napping and I have so much bentonite clay on my face that I can’t open my mouth to talk on the phone, I will write.

With honesty,

integrity,

and the reserved option to change my mind at any moment.

Man, my face is pulsing. I bet I look at least one hour younger when this comes off.