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| Willy Wonka With Some Oompas - Color Not Found In Nature |
I was all set to itemize several new possible catastrophes that Hurricane Harvey illustrated and then this happened: I thought I was moisturizing but I was, in fact, using something the PS bought that was a moisturizer "with glow" which sounded like a brightener (Great! We all want to be brighter! Right?). I should have known there was a "Trumpesque" hue when the PS saw the "moisturizer" in my hand and advised me to "be careful with that stuff".
Ordinarily, I treat any product with a fair amount of skepticism. I read reviews, test it, make an informed decision. Ordinarily. My PS's warning would have warned me off, ordinarily. But I needed moisturizer and it was Chanel. So now, on top of everything else, I'm stained like a yacht, the color of an 80's surfboard, or a plastic carrot. "It can't be that bad.", you say? Allow me to retort; "Oh, yes it can be!"
I did exercise a modicum of restraint, only moisturizing the driest appendages. But one application was more than enough - my palms were a deep shade of tangerine. By the time I noticed the sunset stain on my fingers it was way too late, I was indelibly marked! I don't make candy and I don't know any catchy tunes that are not-so-cleverly-disguised "life lessons". So a wheelchair career as an Oompa-Loompa stand in is probably not an option for me. Nothing to do except grab some soap and a loofah and scrub it off!
It's another small, unexpected, preventable disaster. Funnier than car trouble, but harder to fix. It's humorous but like a meteor - I don't need it right now. A big disaster, a fire or flood would probably kill me. And I know it. I have many contingency plans for every emergency. I'm interested in shopping for insurance the way other females shop for shoes. Risk is too risky, there is no such thing as luck, there are only probabilities. Each day I wake up is a gift! Every day is a great day! Safety is my watchword.
I'm always hungry, but I ignore it. Pain? Is it cancer? No? Then I ignore that too. Staining myself like a redwood deck, is regrettable but ultimately unimportant. Losing a loved one is a disaster. Finding your home gone is a catastrophe. Anything else is just a big cleanup project. Those Texans know what cancer survivors know: nothing, but people matter. Anyone who's still alive after a Harvey or a Katrina is grateful to be alive; grateful their loved ones are OK, just grateful! Because the next cataclysm is on it's way, and we don't know exactly what it will be - only that some kind of maelstrom is imminent!
Irma? North Korea? The POTUS? You never know where the next attack could come from! Oompa Loompa lotion? Nuclear Annihilation? Giant, flying spiders -with lasers on their butts! (not likely, but you never know) I just know it will come! And I have to be ready...
topicals that gave one a tan came out I recall in the 1960s, like Old English for folks wanting a tan without the sacrifices. What is that stuff? Vital dyes? But strangely they don't lend an aura of health, rather off-vital illth if we can coin a word...my mother enjoyed a super dark tan at Detroit Lakes about 1956 and tried that topical stuff in the 60s, NYC. Thank goodness for desquamation, all epithelial cell shed sooner or later without the pumice stone...her blonde hair dyes sometimes made her hair purple instead of platinum blonde, and current men's color combs look like shoe polish to me...
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