My Chocolate Martini Face

Since I was twelve, I have wanted to be forty. I have just been waiting and knowing that it was going to be spectacular.

Last year, I was 39. Thirty-nine!!! So close! The anticipation was palpable. Except that at thirty-nine years old, I found myself sporting the worst case of acne I have EVER had in my entire life. Are you kidding me? Isn’t this stuff supposed to happen to teenagers? My teen years were never assaulted by such horrifying attacks on my face. WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME???

At length, I decided I would not enter the decade of life I had spent years of my life waiting for with horrible acne. I just was not going to do it.

So I took the only bit of advice Adam Levine has ever given me, and I bought ProActive.

It worked, after a fashion. I would now get to enter my forties with nary a blemish. However, in a minute, I decided that a bleached out complexion and a puffy forehead might not, in point of fact, be much better. (I was able to remedy the puffy forehead by altering the recommended frequency of use, but I still objected in principle.)

Then I remembered, I am actually not the sort of person who rubs God-only-knows-what-fiendish-chemicals on my face morning, noon and night just so that I can look a certain way. I’m a hippie, goddammit. (I am not a real hippie, let’s be clear. A real hippie would find many holes in my claims of hippie-hood. Still, I am enough of a hippie to not want to rub chemicals all over my face in pursuit of a societally acceptable complexion.) (Don’t get me wrong, I want the societally acceptable complexion. Just not the chemicals.) (And therein lies the hyp {as in hyp-ocrisy} in my personal brand of hippie.)

In any event, I dispensed with the ProActive, in spite of the considerable monetary investment it had called for, and went to my medicine cabinet to concoct some natural potion or other of my own out of what I already had on hand, because I’m a witch, goddammit. (I’m not a real witch, either. I’m just a random amalgam of a lot of bits of things, really. It’s entertaining.)

I found shea butter, aloe vera gel and essential oil of the lemon variety.

I mixed them all together. (Roughly equal parts shea butter and aloe vera gel, and however many drops of lemon oil seemed sensible at the time. I don’t actually remember.)

I began rubbing this concoction on my face in the place of bleachy-puff chemicals.

DUDE.

It totally worked, and it worked even better than that whole other thing I shelled out a hundred bucks for. Remind me never to take advice from Adam Levine.

Anyway, I used this concoction quite happily until it ran out. When it ran out, I decided that I’d try another random concoction to see if I could tweak a few issues. Primarily the fact that it is quite oily. I live in the desert, so much moisturizing is needed, but this went above and beyond what was necessary.

Round 2.

This time I found that I had a big ol’ bag of cocoa butter that I had never found use for. Surely that’s good for you right? I looked up some stuff on the internet, and all the internet people were like, ‘oh, yeah. That’s totally good,’ so I gave myself the go ahead.

I also had coconut oil, because any self-respecting half-hippie nowadays has coconut oil.

I still had aloe vera gel, so that goes into the mix… and lemon oil again… and I’m pretty sure that was it.

Do you know how hard it is to soften cocoa butter??? Holy cow. That stuff has a melting temperature of something like five million degrees fahrenheit. It was a challenge. But I did it. Well done, me.

I thought the addition of coconut oil and aloe vera gel would keep the cocoa butter to a softened consistency. I was wrong. So I did not end up with moisturizer so much as chapstick for my face. Shrug. Maybe it’s a good idea, how do I know until I try?

You know what? It was a good idea. So now I use my chocolate flavored face chapstick, I have zero acne, less oiliness, and my face smells delicious.

And I was content. I really was.

Then I got a job, and it was delightful in many aspects and exhausting and stressful in others, and I found myself having a vodka limeade every night when I got home. Nothing crazy, just the one… okay, two on a wild night… but I’ve never really been a drinker, so I wonder if this is maybe not so good for me.

So I Googled “health benefits of vodka,” as you do in such a case.

Lo and behold, one of the listed benefits (and I found quite a number, so go ahead and pour yourself a cocktail to sip on while you finish reading this. No, really. Go on. I’ll wait…) was that of toner for your face.

What!?!?

It’s true. The article said vodka has astringent properties, blah blah blah, and to mix it with green tea and use it as toner.

Firstly, I didn’t have any green tea. Secondly, I can never bring myself to do exactly what I’m told, even by the faceless benevolent beings of the magical interwebs. I did however, have a big ol’ jug of aloe vera juice in the fridge because my Grama says it’s good for you. (I don’t think Grama meant I ought to mix it with strong spirits and rub it on my face, but I’m not about to let that stop me.)

So I went roughly 1 part vodka to 3 parts aloe because vodka is expensive and, frankly, I’d rather drink it. I keep this cosmetic cocktail in a bottle in the fridge and I start rubbing it on my face in the morning like some sort of desperately deviant alcoholic.

I saw results immediately. Now, it’s true that this could have been nothing more than the effects of the vodka soaking in through my skin and giving me a buzz through which I looked much improved, but either way it was a boon to my self-image, so I’ll take it.

ONLY THEN THIS OTHER THING HAPPENED…

I have had a “thing” under my eye for at least two years, maybe even more, I don’t remember, but it’s been there for a long-ass time. It looked like a zit, but it was really close to my eye, which is weird, and it never went away. So I just befriended it as best I could and got used to it being there.

Last weekend, I went to wash my face before bed one night, and the eye thing was looking kinda red and puffy and I poked at it, because what else are you going to do, and it erupted rather (gross, sorry, but that’s what happened), and I was all, “weird!”, and then I washed my face and went to bed and THE NEXT DAY IT WAS GONE.

So whoever said vodka won’t solve your problems was clearly just being lazy. If they had been a little more resourceful and, you know, covered themselves in the stuff, they might have had a more optimistic perspective.

And this is the tale of my chocolate martini face.

You’re welcome.

Tune in next week when I report the results of my Pink Moscato Pedicure.

That was definitely a joke, only now that I’ve said it, I think I may need to give it a try…

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