Alright, week two of Stuff Chicks Like. This week, I chose to combine several of the requests while watching the Hallmark Movie “When Love is Not Enough: The Lois Wilson Story.” In light of the requests to watch a Lifetime movie or a soap opera, I figured I’d substantially comply with all of them. I’ve subsequently been told by some of my female friends that Hallmark is different than Lifetime. Frankly, after watching the movie, the only discernable difference between the two was the fact that the Hallmark movie starred Winona Ryder and Barry Pepper instead of Merideth Baxter-Birney and that guy from Seventh Heaven. Let’s get to it.
I have to confess that in anticipation of the blog, I recorded the Hallmark movie which aired on CBS last week. I needed a fallback just in case I couldn’t get a waxing appointment. My planning paid off. But first, I needed to prepare to watch the movie. My DVR said it was 1:59 minutes long—just like The Bachelor—so I was confident I could stomach whatever awaited me. I perused some of the requests I’d received and decided that I would watch the movie in my pajamas by candlelight while sipping wine and eating a pint of ice cream. One request suggested that I “take my underwear off” and “turn down the blinds.” I assumed that the turning down of the blinds would come first.
With my DVR cued and my underwear ready to come off, I first headed to the local grocery store in order to select my ice cream. Although I didn’t get a lot of help from the audience on this one, I assumed that the ice cream selection is just as important as freeing myself from the confines of my unmentionables while watching the movie. I planned to take it seriously.
On the way to the store, I attempted to get into character. I imagined that my hypothetical boyfriend of over a year just broke up with me because I was too needy. He felt trapped. It wasn’t me, it was him. He just wanted me to be happy. Once he got all of his CD’s and old college t-shirts back, we planned to “take a break” and try and find out who we really are. All of my friends were headed to a martini/sex toy party but I just couldn’t bring myself to go. I preferred to be alone, I told myself. Besides, I’d gained three pounds since the break up and now those really cute linen pants I’d purchased at Forever 21 specifically for the martini/sex toy party upon receiving my save the date notice in the mail three months ago just didn’t fit right. They were white too and I just couldn’t risk wearing them in light of the fact that I’d been cramping early this month. I might have even skipped a pill or two. No harm in that, I’d just take two tomorrow and brace myself for the mood swings. No, I wasn’t going anywhere. I just wanted to curl up and watch my movie.
After wiping the tears from my eyes, I arrived at the store, entered, and found the frozen foods aisle. I decided to go with Ben & Jerry’s because it had the most calories and the coolest names. I actually took the time to read the labels. I narrowed my selection down between Chunky Monkey, Chubby Hubby, and Cake Batter. Frankly, I’m a chocolate guy, but I figured I’d try something new. I ultimately decided to go with Cake Batter. I swung by the wine aisle and selected a light and fruity pinot noir to compliment my ice cream. Items in hand, I left the store ready to return home and watch my movie. Then fate intervened.
Because I had a quick errand to run prior to going to the store, I went to a grocery store that I do not usually frequent. Upon getting in my car and backing out, I saw three words emblazoned on a storefront on the opposite end of the parking lot: Sally Beauty Supply. “Why not,” I said. I drove over, parked, and entered the store.
I’m certain all of you reading this have been to Sally Beauty Supply or one of its demonic spinoffs. The place is a smorgasbord of crap. The chemical smell when I entered was so strong it actually occurred to me that I could walk out of there sterile. I put my hand over my junk and proceeded with caution. I felt like a Mormon in a liquor store. Realizing that I was in way over my head (and that I had ice cream in the car), I quickly approached the counter to ask for assistance. The woman behind the counter turned around. For a second, I thought I was looking at Heath Ledger in The Dark Knight. “Ann” had clearly been ridden very hard and then hung outside the tent to dry. I will give Ann credit, though. She was wearing just about every product the store had to offer on her face.
It was impossible to determine how old Ann was based upon the strata of makeup on her face, but I assumed she was in her late 40’s. Seriously, the Sphinx has less plaster on it. Geologists would have to take a cross section of her face upon death and examine each layer in order to accurately determine her exact age. The Shroud of Turin would be easier to date. Her hair was so fried by whatever she purchased with her 30% employee discount that week I could have chopped it off and lined a stable with it. “Hi Ann,” I said. “I need something to make my face soft and clean.” Frankly, that was the first thing that popped into my head. Well, after the Joker resemblance but I didn’t know Ann that well and I didn’t want to insult her. After all, she was the “Beauty Consultant”—at least that’s what her nametag read. “That’s like putting a silk hat on a pig,” I thought.
Ann immediately walked me over to the face masks. I assumed that Ann used these quite a bit along with turpentine and a blowtorch to remove her make up. I felt confident that she would make a good recommendation. I lied to Ann and told her that I had “combination skin”—a phrase I saw printed on a box on the shelf behind her. After a few more questions about the skin on my face and my “goal” in using a mask, Ann recommended an avocado mask. She even suggested that if I didn’t want to spend the money I could actually make one at home. “Wouldn’t I have to go buy avocados?” I thought.
“Why avocado?” I asked inquisitively, effectively masking my disinterest.
Ann explained that there are many benefits to avocado masks and mud masks. Avocadoes are rich with monounsaturated fats, Vitamin B, and Vitamin E, which are excellent for moisturizing and rejuvenating dry, tired skin. “Dry and tired. Just like Ann.” I thought. A mask made with avocadoes is a terrific way to pamper myself and to replenish the skin's moisture after a long day in the sun. Pamper myself? I don’t plan on wearing a diaper until I’m in my late 90’s. Avocadoes are also rich in Vitamin C which can stimulate collagen and reduce the visible signs of aging. “Either that or I can just dip my face in base and rouge like Ann,” I thought.
Ok, at this point I was sold. Apparently, Ann didn’t recognize my buying signals. “A mud mask can help improve your complexion by improving blood circulation and natural skin regeneration. The small grains work to exfoliate the skin by removing dirt, impurities, and toxins. It gently peels away dead skin cells so healthy skin can shine through. The combination of avocado and mud works to detoxify the skin, nourish dry skin, and provide relief from psoriasis, eczema, and acne,” she rambled. She made it a point to tell me that many of the products offered by Sally were “Paraben free.” She explained to me that Paraben was a chemical preservative used in many cosmetics. I assumed that Ann ate a Paraben sandwich for lunch every day.
When she finally shut up, I selected the Queen Helene Avocado and Grapefruit Facial Masque. Sure, all of the above information strongly influenced my decision but it was only $4.99 and Ann wasn’t blocking it from my reach. I bristled with anticipation at the possibility of giving my cheeks a healthy glow. I couldn’t wait until the unique, gel-clay formula gently lifted away impurities while preserving my skin's natural balance. I was ready as hell to get my skin ultra-clean, satiny-smooth, and toned. I walked to the counter hoping my Cake Batter was not yet Cake Soup, grabbed a PediEgg for good measure, and went on my way. I was glad to be out of there. I let the chemical fume buzz wear off, thankful to be going home. Besides, I felt a little bloated and my boobs were sore. You know, not on the front or anything, but under the arms.
I arrived home right around dusk—perfect timing for a mask and a movie. I couldn’t wait to find out who in the Hell Lois Wilson was and why her husband was such a jerk. I put the ice cream in the freezer, opened the bottle of wine, and retired to the bedroom in order to change into my wearing-an-avocado-grapefruit-face-mask-using-the-PedEgg-while-eating-a-pint-of-ice-cream-and-watching-a-Hallmark-movie outfit. Since I don’t own pajamas, I settled for a pair of boxer shorts and my oldest University of Texas t-shirt. My hypothetical ex-boyfriend wasn’t getting this one back.
I read the directions on the mask, smeared it all over my face, poured a glass of wine, lit my now infamous bamboo rain candle, turned off the lights, and hit the couch for the movie. My ice cream needed some more freezer time. Besides, I didn’t want my mask to crack. I found the mask uncomfortable. My eyes were burning because of the fumes or whatever and I must have looked like the guest of honor at the beginning of a surprise party. “How long does this take?” I wondered.
“When Love is Not Enough: The Lois Wilson Story,” the narrator began. To my horror, I quickly realized that this movie took place in the early 1900’s. Damnit, a period piece. Well, actually, isn’t every Hallmark or Lifetime movie a “period” piece? Menstrual humor aside, I was not happy. If I wanted to watch Winona Ryder run around in someone else’s clothing, I’d get the security tapes from the Los Angeles County D.A.
The movie begins with Barry and Winona (Lois and Bill) frolicking through the leaves and eventually getting married before Bill goes off to war and leaves poor Lois to brood, sew, and nervously await his letters from the front. We cut to a shot of Bill in a fake WWI encampment writing a love letter to Lois telling her to “look at the moon” because he plans to “hold it in his arms as he would her if he were home.” Good Lord. After no battle scenes, Bill returns home safely to surprise Lois and the love affair continues. “When does this guy start drinking?” I wondered. Bill and Lois leave their mundane life behind, buy a motorcycle with a side car, and tour the country trying to get Bill’s company off the ground. He eventually leaves her in the rain on the side of the road in order to go drink in a bar. Now we’re talking.
Commercial break. Hit Pause. Time to wash off my mask. I have to admit that upon washing off the mask my face felt refreshed, tight, and rejuvenated. I was also relieved to know that—as Ann had mentioned—since I had exfoliated properly, there would be less dust in my house because 90% of dust is human skin. Disgusting statistics aside, I found the mask to be easier than I’d expected. Ice cream time.
I got my pint of Cake Batter and began to eat. It was delicious. I have to admit that the dim lighting, bamboo rain, and uninhibited nature of my equipment made the ice cream eating a pleasurable experience. I secretly hoped that my hypothetical ex-boyfriend was sitting home crying in the fetal position overcome with regret that he’d broken up with me. I then realized he was probably out with his buddies hitting on women 10 years younger than me. *sigh* I was just thankful that I wasn’t Lois Wilson.
As predicted, Bill Wilson drank and drank and drank and drank. Lois cried and cried and cried and cried. Lois miscarried, Bill lost his job, Bill lost the house, Bill lost the family’s money, Bill cried, Lois thought about drinking, Bill apologized, Bill screwed up the adoption, Bill relapsed, Lois cried, Bill relapsed, Lois cried, Bill apologized, Lois’ mom died, Lois cried, Bill apologized, Lois cried, Bill founded Alcoholics Anonymous and Lois founded Al-Anon. Then I cried. My entire arm was numb from trying to eat ice cream from the pint. I resolved to invent a pity koozie that fits ice cream pints. Look for the prototype at Bed, Bath & Beyond.
All in all, I enjoyed the solitude, the breezy undergarment, and the ice cream. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a chance to use my PedEgg, but it’s on the list now. There’s nothing wrong with kissably smooth feet. Until next week, enjoy. If you need me, I’ll be at the gym working off the ice cream. DP