Nobody warned me that hitting 50 meant that I would spend more on lotion than food. In fact, if I were to write a play about being 50, I would call it “Grease” but for very different reasons.
I cleaned out my bathroom closet yesterday and found the following products. I think these are great products, so I’m providing links if you’re interested. The shock factor was the sheer number of products:
- Lancome Absolue Eye cream
- Johnson & Johnson Dual Purpose Facial lotion with SPF 15
- Lancome Absolue Daily Moisturizer
- Cetaphil Moisturizing Cream
- Jergens Natural Glow Lotion
- Aveda Hand Relief
- Aveda Foot Relief
- Johnson’s Baby Oil
- Vaseline Petroleum Jelly
- Crisco
OK, I was kidding about the Crisco, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were in there somewhere.
Having had enough oil in my skin as a young person to cause a slick when I got in the ocean, lotions are a new addition to my life.
I was the shiny young person who used to laugh at television shows where women put on hand-lotion every night or came out of their bathrooms with Pond’s Night Creme all over their faces. “What’s wrong with them?” I would wonder. “Why are they drying up?”
I’m starting to get it, and I truly value each and every member of my lotion family. They are now part of my morning ritual. In fact, I have had to add 30 minutes to my morning regime just for the greasing portion.
There are a few points of danger. For example, too much lotion on my legs before yoga class can cause injuries. There’s one move where I lie on my back and pull my knee up to my shoulder. I have found that over-greasing makes that calf about as easy to hold onto as a greased pig at the State Fair. The other day I lost my grip and almost put an eye out.
I guess we’re lucky to have lotion, but the excessive expense might cause me to dip into the cost-friendly Crisco occasionally. In high school, people used to talk about those not-so-nice Crisco parties where unmentionable things occurred. I’d like to offer a menopausal version of that party. Grease yourself up, Dames, and like the pigs at the State Fair you might slip easily away from any grasping hands.