Remember last month I promised you I’d do some research on inexpensive at-home facial treatments? I’ve been working on it. I’ve read – or at least browsed – a few books on the subject.
I don’t know where to get things like powdered green algae or pure aloe vera juice, so I’ve started with the very simplest of all the masques, which has the added benefit of being good for all skin types.
Here’s the recipe:
Honey Massage Masque
(Source: Organic Body Care Recipes, by Stephanie Tourles)
Ingredients:
2-3 tsp fresh, raw, room temperature honey
Directions:
Wear a shower cap.
Using your fingers, spread a thin layer of honey all over your face, neck and decolleté.
Leave it on for at least 15 minutes, while you lie down and relax. Don’t fall asleep!
Before removing it, spend five minutes tapping your face lightly and rapidly with your fingers.
Rinse using a very warm, damp facecloth.
It seemed so easy I didn’t bother reviewing the instructions beforehand, and then I was too sticky afterwards. Consequently I forgot the shower cap, the neck, the decolleté and the finger-tapping. This might explain why I didn’t get the promised benefits of softening, moisturizing, deep hydration and a rosy glow. I’m sure your results will be better.
I have to confess I didn’t really like it. I’m not wild about the smell of honey, especially when it’s plastered all over my face. Also – while I’m not especially fastidious – I do get a little unnerved by stickiness. Even though I’ve rinsed it all off, there is still some vestigial stickiness around the edges of my face, between my fingers, and on my mouse.
You know what being coated in honey reminded me of? It reminded me of the time I got stuck in my dress. Yes.
It was a dumb thing I did, trying on that dress. I was skinny then, but the dress was skinnier. I bought it for my mannequins. But before I dressed Genevieve in it, I thought “Oh, it’s so pretty, I should at least try it on.”
It was a gorgeous form-fitting fringed black dress. Form-fitting, that is, if you’re built like an anorexic mannequin. I knew it wouldn’t fit me. But did that stop me from trying? No, it did not.
I got into it. The problems began when I tried to get back out of it. I pulled it over my head, and that’s when I got stuck. The bottom half of the dress was pulled up tightly over my head and shoulders, while the rest of the dress continued fitting my form very tightly. I ended up writhing around on the floor, trying desperately to wriggle out of it. I couldn’t see and my arms were immobilized. I think I’d gotten them out of the sleeves but now they were stuck in some other part of the dress.
It was a very hot apartment, and all that thrashing about was making me sweat and I was getting panicky. I lived alone. There would be noone coming home to rescue me, which caused me both relief and despair. I might perish, but at least noone would see me in such a ridiculous and unbecoming predicament. Decomposition would be rapid in that very hot apartment. My dog would get hungry.
Somehow I got out of the dress and I did not perish or decompose that day. My dog ate Dog Chow.
I hadn’t thought about that experience for quite awhile, but being coated in honey today reminded me of it.
Anyway. Enjoy your honey masque and let me know how it goes, okay? (I’ve asked XUP to submit a recipe for the Inexpensive at-home facial series. I haven’t heard back yet – she’s probably all wrapped up in her new fiance!)
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I once got stuck in my jacket upon arriving for a blind date at the Manx. It was really cold, and as soon as I arrived my glasses fogged up and my nose started to run. I had no kleenex, so I was frantically sniffing and trying to unhook the buttons on my jacket, all the while my temperature was skyrocketing in all my warm clothes and I could hardly see through my foggy glasses.
And the guy kept offering to help me unhook my jacket button, but that seemed like it would just make things every more awkward.
We never went out again.
J.
THAT’S BEE VOMIT ON YOUR FACE!!!!
When I was in high school my friends and I would make masks using oatmeal and egg whites. It was cool I guess.
“My dog would get hungry.” Snort! Too funny!
Still, been there, done that, only with a cat to snack on my potentially decomposing corpse, instead of a dog.
What’s with all the boxes next to Genevieve?
Response en route. Aloe juice is available at many fine natural food stores and natural food sections of your local grocery store.
Your story reminds me of a “too small” story from Florida. I had gone down on a shopping spree long weekend with some friends. I have a habit of shopping alone though. I like to arrive with friends, go our own way for a few hours, meet up and decide how much more time we need. Well, I was in a jeans store trying on, what else, jeans. I went into the change room, squeezed into a pair of cute, straight legged jeans. Well, those of you that know me, know that I have big feet. I went to take off these jeans and I couldn’t get my feet out of the ankle holes. The more I tried, the sweatier I got and I had visions of having to have my feet cut out of these jeans. I was wishing that I hadn’t sent my friends on their way. I don’t know how I got them off, but it did take about 15 minutes of struggling. Never liked tight ankle jeans. Give me a good boot cut anyday.
Oh the claustrophobia! I don’t panic easily but that description reminded me of a few times in my life in similar circumstances when I came close. Whew! Good thing the thought of your dog starving got you out of it!
Jo, ha ha, I’m so glad I didn’t get stuck in my dress on a first date!
Tiana, I know, I only recently found out that honey is bee barf, and I think that’s part of what was creeping me out about it!
Toni, somehow I think a dog would wait a more respectable length of time before eating its owner than a cat would. Duncan’s a pretty easy-going guy, but he does NOT like being kept waiting for a meal.
Woodsy, it’s an old picture of Genevieve in the little black dress. It was taken shortly before my last move.
XUP, thank you!
Deb, ha ha ha ha ha! Best changing-room story EVER. It’s especially funny because I know your feet. (By the way, I have a friend whose 12 year old daughter is now wearing MEN’S SIZE ELEVEN SHOES!)
Julia, I don’t think of myself as claustrophobic because the THOUGHT of confined spaces doesn’t freak me out. But getting stuck in a tight spot sure does. Wowzers.