Product Review: Ulta Dual Action Cleansing System

So, as luck would have it, I've gotten a little older.

When I was a teenager, I had some acne and it turned into cystic acne in my early 20's.  It wasn't HORRIBLE, but it was bad enough...bad enough that I still have scarring 10-15 years later.  So, I used proactive, got it cleared up, and never really paid much attention to my skin after that.  I would wash it, and occasionally moisturize it, then pack on the make up, and then wonder why my pores looked like canyons, especially around my nose.

As time wore on, my pores bothered me more and more.  Now in my mid-30s, I do get the occasional acne, but nothing too serious.  But my pores...UGH...just awful.

I had seen commercials for the Clarisonic Skin cleansing system and got pretty excited, until I saw the price.  Depending on the model you get, you can spend between $100 and $225 or more on these things.  That's a lot of cash for someone who isn't used to caring for their skin...who is also a mother of 4, whose family depends on a single income.  (Now, to be perfectly fair, I haven't tried the Clarisonic line, so maybe it is worth every penny. But...I like my pennies...alot.)

So, I put my late-to-the-skin-care-party dreams on hold, and simply began washing my face a little more and, thanks to my wonderful subscription boxes, have been using Pur-lisse moisturizers for a couple of months.  (LOVE them!!)

Fast forward to last week, and I had run out of foundation, so I hopped on to Ulta.com to order some. (I really like Urban Decay Naked Skin for my foundation...and no one sells it in my small/in-the-middle-of-nowhere town.)  While there, I somehow came across Ulta's Dual Action Cleansing system.  It's along the same lines as the Clarisonic system, but...only $25!!  THAT I can totally do, I thought to myself, so I ordered one.

 Finally, after waiting for a week, it came in.  I gave it a try last night using L'Oreal Revitalift Cream Cleanser (also purchased from Ulta).

L'Oreal Revitalift Cream Cleanser ★ ★ ★ ★ ★ 

Girls, LET ME TELL YOU....I am in love with both of these products.  Following the directions on the box, I wet my face (I didn't wear any make up yesterday, so that was all I needed to do), applied some of the L'Oreal Revitalift Cleanser and turned on the Ulta Cleansing system.  

Ulta Dual Action Cleansing System ★ ★ ★ ★ ★

Using the Ulta Cleansing system, I scrubbed my face for about 90 seconds.  The bristles don't hurt, but it's a little more rough than just using a wash cloth.  (I am also a redhead with very fair skin, thats also a little on the sensitive side, so maybe it felt rougher to me than it would to any of you?) I have to admit, I might have had a little too much fun, and giggled a little to much as I made a beard with all the foam, but...there is also a part of me that will never grow up.

Turned off the system and rinsed it, then rinsed my face.  INSTANTLY, many of the pores on my nose had disappeared.  No kidding!!  Now, there are still some visible pores, especially on the side of my nose that are visible, but they are also the largest ones, and as it was my first time using this product, I wasn't expecting full miracles.  But to see a noticeable difference after the first try was amazing!  

Patted the skin dry and applied my Pur-Lisse Moisturizer, and my skin felt as soft as baby skin.  I wasn't overly dry, but there was no oil slick either. Clean, smooth soft skin. I was so excited by the results, I rushed into the living room and made my husband stare at my nose and look at my pores.  Even he was impressed.

Again, I have not tried any of the other face scrubbing units, so I can't honestly say if it's comparable to other brands.  The Ulta brand is my first one, but it surely knocked it out of the park!  I can't wait to see what my skin looks like in 30 days!

All in all, I give both the Ulta Dual Cleansing System and the L'Oreal Reviatalift Cleanser two enthusiastic thumbs up!

Until next time,

XOXO

Sam

Pretty from the inside out - Avoiding Toxicity

When someone gets a case of acne, the first thing many people say is that one must wash their skin and purge their pores of impurities.

When someone gets a sore that becomes infected, health care providers often want to clean the area, clean out the infection, and begin a regiment of antibiotics to stop the infection from going further.

Cleaning up and cleaning out your home, your car, your closet, your purse/wallet, your locker if you are still in school, and any other thing you can imagine is often the first piece of advice you get when you are trying to solve a problem involving those things.  And one often feels better after doing so.

So, what happens when there is a person that makes (or tries to make) you feel bad about yourself?  Well, that is another infection that you have to get rid of.  And you must do it as soon as you recognize the problem, before the infection spreads. And like with your skin, it can sting and burn as you clean it out, but in the long run, you are better off for it.

I have been in the process for a while of cleaning out some infection of my spirit.  Passive-aggressive and aggressive ugliness that there is no need for.  I've been called names.  I have had things about me twisted around and turned upside down, and then smeared over part of my social circle.  Part of said social circle has alerted me to said infection, knowing better or even asking questions, asking my input, my side....others are believing the nonsense and have become, themselves, passive-aggressive.  That part of my social circle was actually never really friendly, honestly.  But the fact that my name has been spit out like vinegar, both in public and in private is hurtful, eye-opening and, last but not least, hollowing.

But, it's also lending to growth, renewal, healing and repair.

I've discovered weeds in my garden.  Some were weeds I was aware of from the get-go, but pretended not to notice.  Some were "surprise" weeds, ones I didn't see coming, but weeds that needed to be culled out, nonetheless. Why?  Because feeling ugly, feeling less-than, feeling targeted spoils the spirit and embitters the soul.  And I won't let the whispers and sneers of the minority rob me of my joy.

Inner joy, peace and happiness are reflected on your outward appearance.  It doesn't matter what your waist size, hip size, bra size is, it doesn't matter what color your eyes are, what length your hair is, or the kind of clothes you wear.  When you are bitter, people can see it.  It seeps from your body and infects those around you.  And I don't want any part of that.  I hope, dear reader, you don't either.

Using the words of a friend of mine, spread love, not hate.  Love is easier to manage.  And if there is anyone causing you grief or pain, clean out that infection.  Cauterize that wound.  Yes, it hurts...but it's better to leave a healed scar than it is to lose a bigger part of yourself.

Until next time,
XOXO
Sam

I've started a new addiction

It's happened.  I don't even know how I feel about it, but...I am addicted to something that my teenage self would shudder to even think about 20 years ago.  Some might say I am a bit late on the band wagon, and others...many others...will just not understand. Some may gasp, some may wonder what in the hell I am thinking...others will welcome me to the dark side.

What is my new addiction, you ask?

I make my bed, EVERY MORNING.

I know, right?!?

And it's nearly a compulsion now.  This morning, after I had gotten dressed and cleaned up for the day, I tried to let it go, and walk away.  After all, everyone needs a day off from chores, right?  So, I grabbed my phone off my night stand and started to walk away, into the kitchen where my coffee machine was waiting patiently for me.  I got about 5 steps way from the bedroom door, and couldn't help but turn and look at the bed...cozy looking, yes, but...crumpled and askew.  And before I knew it, I set down my phone and started making the bed.


For most of my adult life, unless it was "cleaning day, I never made my bed.  Hardly ever, anyway.   I made my bed much more often as a teenager, and even then I wasn't consisted about it.  "What's the point?" I would say, "It's just going to get all messed up again when we go to bed tonight."  Oh I tried creating the habit, like a good girl/housewife, but I just seemed pointless.

Until recently.

Something has clicked.  I made my bed not long ago, and, after a particularly busy and exhausting day, I  LOVED how it felt to crawl into a nicely made bed.  There is something so comforting about that.  Plus, it makes the entire master bedroom look neater, more inviting, more like actual grown ups sleep there.  I love walking about the house and glancing into my room and knowing that if nothing else gets done, the bed is MADE and its something I can check off my to-do list.

Now, I know that many people have been making their bed for years.  My father and step-mother made their bed every morning as I grew up.  Without fail, no matter how early in the morning they had to leave the house, no matter if one of them was not feeling well (Of course, I really can't think of a single time either one of them took a sick day at work...hearty, salt of the earth types), no matter if they were getting ready to go to a funeral, that was one of several things that they did, every day.  Without fail.    My older brother often made his bed.  My brother is several years older than me, and moved out of the house shortly after I moved in, but still...you could almost guarantee his bed was made every morning.  Occasionally, during the short time we lived in the same house, he would be running late for work and maybe his bed didn't get made, but then on his lunch break, he came home and made it.  My mother made her bed more often than not as well.  I am telling you that I was shown example after example all while growing up that one should make their bed.  Me...well I was a bit of a rebellious spirit, and I thought of it as just one more thing I HAD to do, and if I *HAD* to do it, I didn't want to do it, so I fought against it. "I do what I want!!" was my mindset.  (Much more trouble for me than it was worth, but...rebellious and stubborn was I, and I am sure I gave my parents fits of frustration.  I know this because I now have a 14 year old daughter whom I love dearly, but she is making my hair fall out because she is much like I was at her age.)

I tried getting into the habit over my adult years.  But I could never stick with it because, as I became an adult, especially after I had married and started having children, my to-do list was chock full of more important things to do.  "I don't have time to make my bed...I have to make a grocery list/get ready to go talk to a teacher/run by the bank/randomly scrub a room/write emails/check Facebook", etc.  There was always something more important to do, and to be honest, I didn't care about making my bed.

Today, I do.   I can't help it.  Dear God, I have become one of "them".

Try it.  Seriously.  If you are not already a bed maker (and I know some of you are not), seriously try it.  Make your bed every day for a week, no excuses.  It is going to take less than 5 minutes, you will have something accomplished for your day, and you will start feeling the exhilaration  that comes with having a neatly made bed waiting for you at night.  It really does feel good.

Until next time,
XOXO
Sam

RIP Shame

Something has been on my mind lately...something that is so controversial that no one really wants to talk about it, and anyone who does has to be prepared to get an earful.  It's hard to believe that this is even a topic of "debate", but people really do have strong feelings, one way or another,  regarding what I am going to write about.  Nonetheless, I think it's something that needs to be said.  And it's something that needs to be said by me.

I'm fat.

And that's okay.

Let me head off the first droll remark I can see coming.  "You are not fat, you have fat.  Just like you have fingernails, but you are not fingernails."  Whether I say "I am fat" or "I have fat", it really does mean the same thing, right?  We all know the point I am getting to here.  I hate semantics for this very reason, because someone wants to correct what I say instead of just letting me say it, and then dealing with what I am saying.

So, let's not lose the point of my train of thoughts here.  I am fat.  And THAT'S OKAY!

Body acceptance is a touchy subject for me.  I, personally, have been taught since I could remember that there is only around 3 body sizes that are okay to have.  "Small", which is preferable.  "Medium" which is expected.  "Large" is pushing the limits but is generally accepted to a certain degree. Other than that, if you don't fit into those three categories, you are a BAD PERSON, societally speaking, and obviously fair game and a fair target for ridicule, jokes and you MUST hate yourself.  I have never actually been in the "small" category.  Even at a "medium", I look rail thin.  I have been blessed/cursed with big boobs, so even at my smallest size that I am comfortable at for me, my tops are a medium or large, depending on the cut.

Among your friends and loved ones, you are not allowed to say you are fat.  "You are not fat!!" is something I have heard, time and again,  from my kids, my husband, my friends, and anyone trying to be nice.  In all fairness, "I'm fat" is said by me with a hint of self deprecation, and often in a mocking tone to suggest (read: confirm) that I was making fun of myself.  But let's face it.  I am fat.  And, as of today, that is okay with me.

To ward off the second argument I can hear coming, I would like to say I believe in health, and I have to admit I have not been living healthy.  I haven't exercised in a long time, and I eat way more than my fair share of junk food and fast food because it is convenient.  I sit on the couch, at the table or at my desk too much.  I don't drink enough water.  And those things need to change.  Let me be clear...Those things need to change.  But, as has so often played out, what happens when I change those things, and I am still fat?  Maybe not AS fat, but still fat by societal standards. And the line between "acceptable fat" and "not acceptable" fat levels is murky and gray and vast.

Society and the media tells us that is you are pushing above a size 8, you are a.) fat, b.) not beautiful and c.) ridiculous for thinking you could be beautiful.  At this point, I would love to be a size 8.  Which is a good medium size for me, but still on the larger end of the spectrum generally speaking, and therefore only tolerated.

I have felt awful and ashamed almost my entire life because I was not/am not/and can not be a petite waif like many of my friends.  I have scrutinized myself, glared at myself, yelled at myself and despised myself based on the number that showed up on the scale that morning.  I have abused myself because I am larger than what I feel should be. Quite honestly, if I spoke to a child the way I speak to myself regarding weight, I would be picked up and jailed for verbal and emotional abuse.  Really...I have been just awful to myself.

But the thing is, I am lovable and beautiful and smart even as a chubby/larger woman.  I have only recently become convinced of this.  My cooking tastes as good whether I am medium or extra large.  I bend over backwards for my friends and my family and especially my kids no matter what.  I am HI-larious after a bottle of wine.  I am genuinely concerned about the welfare and well-being of my loved ones.  I write just as well. My house is just as clean (or not clean, depending on the day)...I have just as many kids, and I love them just the same.  I stand up for just as many underdogs and I fight just as many good fights for equality, justice and freedom for all...I do all these things whether I am bigger or smaller.  The "me" doesn't change.  Who I am is who I am, and dropping a few pounds, or shrinking a couple of pants sizes isn't going to change the way anyone views me.  And at the end of the day, and at the end of my life, I doubt my funeral will be full of people saying "RIP Sam...she was fat."  I mean, maybe people will say that, but I would like to think that more people will be saying "RIP Sam...she was a great friend/wife/mother/cook/wine drinker."  And THAT, my friends, is what matters.  THAT is who I am.

I can be beautiful.  My husband thinks I am beautiful.  And, at the end of the day, that's all that matters, right?  I can be deserving of love and affection and give those things right back where I am now.  And, I am not into size bashing ANYONE...but there are some who think that bigger women are sexier than smaller women, just as there are some who think that smaller women are sexier than bigger women.  Heck, we are ALL women...and that's damn sexy, period.  And it is high time we as women stop tearing each other down, especially on physical appearance.  It's dumb and it's hurtful and we are all better than that.

I *do* need to focus on my health, and get back to exercising because it's good for my body and mind and soul...not necessarily to decrease in size.  I will drink my water for proper hydration, and I will eat healthy wholesome food because it will extend my life and I will feel better...not because it gets me to a goal size or weight.  If that happens, fine.  But it's not my sole purpose anymore, because what happens when I bust my butt and then hit a plateau and the scale doesn't budge?  I quit exercising.  Well, now, it's no longer about losing weight...it's about being healthy, whatever that looks like for me.

At the end of the day, dear reader, if you are fat or if you have fat, however you want to say it, it's okay.  You are still a worthy human being.  You are still lovable and the likelihood is that no one is going to care or even remember if your jeans were a size 2 or a size 18.  Whether your teeth were crooked, or if you had split ends.  They will remember you for the quality of human being that you are.  And "quality of human being" doesn't have a size or weight limit.

Until next time,
XOXO
Sam

May Birch Box!!!

Birchbox hasn't disappointed me yet!  Let's see what was given to us in May!

This month, I wasn't blown away.  The box wasn't bad, but...well, it wasn't my favorite.  But hey, no one can knock it out of the park every time, right? Let's get to it.

Nexxus Color Assure shampoo, conditioner and primer★★

Let's rip the band-aid off and get to my least favorite part.  I wanted to like this shampoo, I really did. But I didn't.  The primer is something you are supposed to put on your hair before you shower, I believe to protect it from the heat of your shower.  Um, okay?  Did that.  The shampoo - I needed more.  I have a lot of hair, even as it's shorter, and the sample size was smaller than it appears to be.  And the conditioner...ehhhh?  Wasn't impressed.  My hair didn't feel right afterward. I think I will stick with my Redken.

Gilchrist & Soames Body Lotion★★★

This body lotion was okay.  I didn't feel it was any more special than any other lotion.  The scent was so-so.  I will use it, but I won't go out of my way to purchase it.  

Pix! Shea Butter Lip Balm★★★★

Great lip balm!!  Definitely going to use this one all up.  Lips feel soft and silky and with that yummy shea butter smell/taste.  Awesome

32 Effervescent Breath Treatment★★★

One I haven't tried yet...and I can't guarantee that I will.  You are supposed to drop this in to your mouth and let it fizz up, and it is supposed to kill bad breath.  I just can't seem to bring myself to do it.  If I do, I will update this review later.

Whish Shave Cream★★★★

This is a thick, creamy shave cream as it comes out.  I used it sparingly, in a thin, almost invisible layer, and it was still great!  Smelled great, too...and while I can't quite pick out exactly why that's important, because no one but the dogs walk around smelling my legs.  BUT a great smell just makes it better. Right?  Loved this over my whatever-brand-i-grab-at-Walmart usual pick.  Will hunt this down and buy!

And that's it!!  The lip balm and shaving cream saved this box for me...wasn't overly impressed with everything else.  Oh well. BirchBox June should be here in a few days, and I look forward to reviewing that one...ON TIME...

Until next time,

XOXO

Sam