Thursday, June 25, 2009
STINKY BUSINESS
Most home products and toiletries are scented. Consider how many of those you come in contact with daily: Hand soap, body wash, shampoo, conditioner, gels, sprays, makeup, body lotion, deodorant, laundry detergent, dryer sheets, dish soap, air freshener, candles, carpet cleaner, etc. Since these products are scented with synthetic fragrance, the daily dose of chemicals bombarding your system could be unhealthy. Why not replace some of these products with a scent that is kinder to your system, more appealing to your nose, and easy to create? (Remember my mantra: invest in your health, because it is priceless.)
Synthetic fragrance can be an irritant and doesn’t hold up well on skin. Most perfumes and colognes on the market are now made with synthetic fragrance, not essential oils. Essential oils are extracted from plants and flowers. They are concentrated and contain nothing but the derived oil or essence. Fragrance oils are synthetically created chemicals blended with an inexpensive carrier oil. After a few hours on the skin, the odor falls apart and doesn’t marry with your natural chemistry like essential oil based perfumes.
Why pay for a fake? That’s STINKY BUSINESS.
There are many websites for making your own perfumes, with recipes and combinations to get you started. I open several bottles of essential oils and smell them next to each other to find my special blends. Try a one note fragrance with an essential oil that can stand on its own, like lavender. Or find out what that pricey bottle of perfume claims to be made from, and create a mix from a real source.
To begin, you need a 4-6oz glass container with a spritzer top, or an old perfume bottle. Tinted glass is recommended because sunlight can affect the natural ingredients. The universal combination for perfume is always essential oil, 100-195 proof vodka, and distilled water. The ratio depends on whether you are making a perfume, cologne, or body spritz .
My favorite body spritz and home spray is:
-4oz. bottle
-20-50 drops of essential oil
-2 tsps vodka
-Distilled water to fill
The ratio for perfume:
-2 1/2oz vodka
-2 TB distilled water
-15 to 30% essential oils
You can add a few drops of liquid glycerin or jojoba oil to enhance the fragrance.
I recommend mixing the vodka with the essential oils, then wait at least 48 hours before adding the distilled water.
Always shake before using and keep away from eyes. Not all essential oils can be sprayed on the face.
I design individualized scents for my friends and family, translating personalities into fragrance.
I keep a log of recipes for happy refills. Each time you make these wonderful gifts for yourself and others, you’ll get familiar with the compatibilities of essential oils, like a bartender stirring up winning concoctions.
Also add a few drops of essential oils to your laundry washing. They have medicinal, anti- bacterial qualities, especially eucalyptus. Alan Hayes is my favorite aroma-phile, he gives great tips for practical easy home remedies. You’ll never buy febreeze again!
Check out the “archives” section of his website: itssonatural.com
If you want more information about natural perfumes check out: http://www.yehcenter.com/
Pay attention to what you smell everyday. Try mixing your own scents, it’s a creative party for your nose and brain. And when someone stops you to ask, “What are you wearing?” Won’t it be fun to say, "A signature scent I designed for myself".
Yummy.
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
BUBBLES, INK: My Photo Gallery Blog
Bubbles, Ink. is the new blog space I've created to showcase my photography. The premier collection is a photo essay of 2009 Pride Parade. I was also a participant this year, introducing the THE KILLER BEES to Milwaukee. I enjoyed meeting everyone who came to frolic. To view my images, click on the link below:
www.bubblesink.blogspot.com
Thursday, June 11, 2009
I LOVE A PARADE
I love a parade, especially if I am doing the parading. Watching from the sidelines is fine for some, but entertaining, and standing up for something I’m proud of, is thrilling. I’ve marched in the 4th of July parade several times, proud to be a free American. This year I am joining Milwaukee’s Gay Pride Parade, proud to celebrate the diversity of the human race.
Beauty College was my first opportunity to know gay men. What hooked me was the ease of communication. Gay men were not afraid or intimidated by me, and delivered their opinions and feelings without hesitation. When doors are wide open, more comes in. Being reserved has its place, but the autistic, “lamp-shady” nature of some straight men can be downright dull. Depth in relationships starts with sharing, not withholding.
My fellow Bees, Michael and Stacey, showed up at a time when I was creatively dormant. They picked me up, dusted me off, and taught me more than anyone. I learned about the process in living. Reaching the goal, and taking pleasure in getting there. I learned about friendships and community, building a family where there was none.
And, I learned that life……..is only as yummy as you make it.
On this parade of friendship and love, I will be promoting diversity and affinity.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
"UM, LIKE, YA KNOW WHAT I MEAN?"
When I signed up for a degree in Cosmetology, the curriculum did not include conflict resolution or psychotherapy. I had no idea that personality management would play a major role in my career. My professional goals were; use god-given talents, create and enhance beauty, and support thyself financially. According to Beauty School statistics, two percent of the students who complete a degree in Cosmetology actually go on to work in the industry. The profession is more complicated and difficult than people realize, and the old adage, “she wasn’t very bright, so we sent her to beauty school” should be put to rest because it’s a uniformed cliché. The following experience made me question whether or not I would make it in the beauty business...
I can’t remember her name, but she was a retired Grade School teacher, nagging control freak, and world-class sour puss. She received fifty-nine of the sixty manicures required to complete my Beauty School Program. Her nasty trick was smug silence, leaving me the responsibility to initiate and maintain all conversation. Only when I tossed the ball, would she whack it across the net. Strategy and defense were not even in my tool kit yet, I was a socially inept teenager and her intimidating manner made me very nervous. Old what’s-her-name had an hour and a half to fire at my flawed vocabulary, and repeatedly pummel my poor word choices. Unfortunately, I couldn’t pull off a twenty minute manicure, and rushing could have set me up for a do-over. Sometimes you must stand up for yourself, but this bully knew I was trapped, not working for money, as I would in the future, but for a passing grade. My simple plan was to be kind and considerate, cheer her up, make her laugh, and pray for a break.
Grammar was the main source of her irritation. If my sentence ended with, “ya know what I mean?” she would say “NO, I don’t know what you mean!” If I mumbled, she would pretend not to hear me, and scream, “WHAT?! WHAT?!!” Every time I slipped on a “like” or an “um” she exploded. She sifted through my words like a heat seeking missile, attentive for errors, or incorrect usage of a verb, relishing every mistake. Meanwhile, I chirped along, searching for anecdotes to lighten her mood, hiding my anguish. You‘ve got to know what you can control, and unfortunately it’s only ever yourself.
Had I been a strategist, I might have taken note that, despite the weekly manicures and blow dry styles, she was hopelessly unattractive. Like a bow on a turd, it was useless. She knew nothing about hairstyles or fashion. But I did. I was raised on it. My Mother was a fashion model turned Mary Kay consultant nicknamed, “Eyeshadow.” She emphasized poise and style to her daughter, there was no other way to be. I was wearing makeup by the sixth grade, cutting and coloring my own hair long before entering beauty school. We were a fashion forward family. I could have jabbed at this woman’s soft spot and brought her down to size. But I never did.
At her final appointment, I announced with glee this was to be my last required manicure. I told stories and shared current events as always, but now I knew my every flaw, and there were no more grammatical errors. Carefully choosing my words, there was nothing to feast on. She scattered to find a new approach, threatening to request me again because she liked the way I did her nails, and the school would have to comply with the wishes of a client. But my lessons were over, and she was finished.
I sprayed her nails with the quick dry and pulled the table away. While cleaning my manicure table and implements, she stormed to the front desk to secure another dim student who needed grammatical training. One of the student receptionists, learning to make announcements over the PA, failed to turn the system off before what’s-her name stepped up. With nails beautifully polished, hair perfectly styled, and displeasure strewn across her face, she clearly broadcasted, "Put me down next week, same time,
I want a manicure and a blow job.”
Students and staff froze in shock. Jaws dropped and eyes popped open. Seconds of silence passed before everyone realized, a daft old lady just made a silly mistake, and then the howls of laughter ensued.
She never returned to the Beauty School for service.
And counted among that two percent who survive and thrive in the beauty industry,
I continue to use my god-given talents to create and enhance beauty.
I can’t remember her name, but she was a retired Grade School teacher, nagging control freak, and world-class sour puss. She received fifty-nine of the sixty manicures required to complete my Beauty School Program. Her nasty trick was smug silence, leaving me the responsibility to initiate and maintain all conversation. Only when I tossed the ball, would she whack it across the net. Strategy and defense were not even in my tool kit yet, I was a socially inept teenager and her intimidating manner made me very nervous. Old what’s-her-name had an hour and a half to fire at my flawed vocabulary, and repeatedly pummel my poor word choices. Unfortunately, I couldn’t pull off a twenty minute manicure, and rushing could have set me up for a do-over. Sometimes you must stand up for yourself, but this bully knew I was trapped, not working for money, as I would in the future, but for a passing grade. My simple plan was to be kind and considerate, cheer her up, make her laugh, and pray for a break.
Grammar was the main source of her irritation. If my sentence ended with, “ya know what I mean?” she would say “NO, I don’t know what you mean!” If I mumbled, she would pretend not to hear me, and scream, “WHAT?! WHAT?!!” Every time I slipped on a “like” or an “um” she exploded. She sifted through my words like a heat seeking missile, attentive for errors, or incorrect usage of a verb, relishing every mistake. Meanwhile, I chirped along, searching for anecdotes to lighten her mood, hiding my anguish. You‘ve got to know what you can control, and unfortunately it’s only ever yourself.
Had I been a strategist, I might have taken note that, despite the weekly manicures and blow dry styles, she was hopelessly unattractive. Like a bow on a turd, it was useless. She knew nothing about hairstyles or fashion. But I did. I was raised on it. My Mother was a fashion model turned Mary Kay consultant nicknamed, “Eyeshadow.” She emphasized poise and style to her daughter, there was no other way to be. I was wearing makeup by the sixth grade, cutting and coloring my own hair long before entering beauty school. We were a fashion forward family. I could have jabbed at this woman’s soft spot and brought her down to size. But I never did.
At her final appointment, I announced with glee this was to be my last required manicure. I told stories and shared current events as always, but now I knew my every flaw, and there were no more grammatical errors. Carefully choosing my words, there was nothing to feast on. She scattered to find a new approach, threatening to request me again because she liked the way I did her nails, and the school would have to comply with the wishes of a client. But my lessons were over, and she was finished.
I sprayed her nails with the quick dry and pulled the table away. While cleaning my manicure table and implements, she stormed to the front desk to secure another dim student who needed grammatical training. One of the student receptionists, learning to make announcements over the PA, failed to turn the system off before what’s-her name stepped up. With nails beautifully polished, hair perfectly styled, and displeasure strewn across her face, she clearly broadcasted, "Put me down next week, same time,
I want a manicure and a blow job.”
Students and staff froze in shock. Jaws dropped and eyes popped open. Seconds of silence passed before everyone realized, a daft old lady just made a silly mistake, and then the howls of laughter ensued.
She never returned to the Beauty School for service.
And counted among that two percent who survive and thrive in the beauty industry,
I continue to use my god-given talents to create and enhance beauty.
Tuesday, June 9, 2009
Saturday, June 6, 2009
CONSCIOUS PERFECTION
Barbie is celebrating her 50th birthday, and consciously or unconsciously, women still consider her “charms” a standard. Long blonde hair, skinny body, perky globes, etc.
Although imitation is a never-ending stimulus package for the economy of "beautification" services, what are the rewards of this billion dollar investment?
Sadly, the physical ideals of sexual attractiveness; the formula for “optimal luring capacity” has not been abandoned despite lack of attainability, objectification, or proof of a better life.
In exchange for being noticed, and the expected reward of endless enduring love, women withstand starvation, Spankx, plastic surgery, Botox, breast enhancement, and hours of spinal contortion from high heels. If these tactics guaranteed unconditional love, I might be interested, but I am a pragmatic girl, and would not jeopardize my health or comfort for mere attention. However, it is a well known fact that you can attract more bees with honey - the sweet nectar of contentment – because discontent is not attractive, inviting or beautiful.
Consider the great beauties of the world: Elizabeth Taylor, Tina Turner, Marilyn Monroe, Halle Berry. Then ponder all the stars that have turned themselves in to puff-lipped alien lizards, attempting to preserve the beauty of youth: Priscilla Presley, Dolly Parton, Cher.
They all may have fame and fortune, but what about their personal lives? Is finding true love any easier for them? Does god-given beauty or surgically-preserved youth really deliver?
How would your life change if you had the body you wanted, would physical perfection secure happiness? What actually stands in the way of a satisfying life? I always tell nervous brides, “yes, everyone will be looking at you…
for a second…but they will quickly return to themselves and their own appearance. Trust me; paparazzi are not lurking outside your house. Whether or not you can pull off a bikini or a sleeveless shirt is irrelevant in the real world. (Hollywood is a different story – not yours!) A few varicose veins should not keep you from wearing a skirt, because no one will probably even notice or care. Losing five, ten, or twenty pounds before a class reunion may give you confidence, but a warm smile and open heart is what people will remember. In the throes of great sex are you really thinking about your abs? And, after the initial shock of your cellulite on the beach, will anyone think less of you; after all, it’s not a felony, is it? Instead of judging yourself and competing with others, try looking people directly in the eye; show them you are present and available. It’s intoxicating to be seen and heard …
A health insurance chart would label me overweight. I’ve been pleasantly plump my whole life, but I have never, and would never, have a relationship with a man who criticized my figure. Actually, the men I attract are quite enthusiastic about my zaftig charms. I dated a body builder several years ago, who was 14 years younger than me. He told me he respected women who pumped iron at the gym, but he preferred women with soft curves and thick legs, and the emotional stability of older women. Trust me; men are turned on by women who like themselves. A guest on Oprah claimed that you should be able to stand in front of a mirror naked, and be turned on by yourself. I fervently agree.
Furthermore, consider the practicality of aging. When we are at our most fertile, we are most appealing to the opposite sex. This is the biological path we take. We grow older and things change for a reason. We are not designed to chase boys and make babies in our later years. It’s a gift to push us into thinking about other things, like, why we’re here, what we’ve learned, and how we’re going to serve the world, insuring our lives were meaningful.
“In life our task is to go from unconscious perfection to conscious imperfection and then to conscious perfection” -unknown proverb
Please bask in your own individual beauty. Be aware of sleepwalking, unconsciously playing the same destructive tapes over and over. Seek new thoughts about yourself. Wake up and experience your fingers and toes and everything in between. Embrace the conscious truth, and love who you are.
Although imitation is a never-ending stimulus package for the economy of "beautification" services, what are the rewards of this billion dollar investment?
Sadly, the physical ideals of sexual attractiveness; the formula for “optimal luring capacity” has not been abandoned despite lack of attainability, objectification, or proof of a better life.
In exchange for being noticed, and the expected reward of endless enduring love, women withstand starvation, Spankx, plastic surgery, Botox, breast enhancement, and hours of spinal contortion from high heels. If these tactics guaranteed unconditional love, I might be interested, but I am a pragmatic girl, and would not jeopardize my health or comfort for mere attention. However, it is a well known fact that you can attract more bees with honey - the sweet nectar of contentment – because discontent is not attractive, inviting or beautiful.
Consider the great beauties of the world: Elizabeth Taylor, Tina Turner, Marilyn Monroe, Halle Berry. Then ponder all the stars that have turned themselves in to puff-lipped alien lizards, attempting to preserve the beauty of youth: Priscilla Presley, Dolly Parton, Cher.
They all may have fame and fortune, but what about their personal lives? Is finding true love any easier for them? Does god-given beauty or surgically-preserved youth really deliver?
How would your life change if you had the body you wanted, would physical perfection secure happiness? What actually stands in the way of a satisfying life? I always tell nervous brides, “yes, everyone will be looking at you…
for a second…but they will quickly return to themselves and their own appearance. Trust me; paparazzi are not lurking outside your house. Whether or not you can pull off a bikini or a sleeveless shirt is irrelevant in the real world. (Hollywood is a different story – not yours!) A few varicose veins should not keep you from wearing a skirt, because no one will probably even notice or care. Losing five, ten, or twenty pounds before a class reunion may give you confidence, but a warm smile and open heart is what people will remember. In the throes of great sex are you really thinking about your abs? And, after the initial shock of your cellulite on the beach, will anyone think less of you; after all, it’s not a felony, is it? Instead of judging yourself and competing with others, try looking people directly in the eye; show them you are present and available. It’s intoxicating to be seen and heard …
A health insurance chart would label me overweight. I’ve been pleasantly plump my whole life, but I have never, and would never, have a relationship with a man who criticized my figure. Actually, the men I attract are quite enthusiastic about my zaftig charms. I dated a body builder several years ago, who was 14 years younger than me. He told me he respected women who pumped iron at the gym, but he preferred women with soft curves and thick legs, and the emotional stability of older women. Trust me; men are turned on by women who like themselves. A guest on Oprah claimed that you should be able to stand in front of a mirror naked, and be turned on by yourself. I fervently agree.
Furthermore, consider the practicality of aging. When we are at our most fertile, we are most appealing to the opposite sex. This is the biological path we take. We grow older and things change for a reason. We are not designed to chase boys and make babies in our later years. It’s a gift to push us into thinking about other things, like, why we’re here, what we’ve learned, and how we’re going to serve the world, insuring our lives were meaningful.
“In life our task is to go from unconscious perfection to conscious imperfection and then to conscious perfection” -unknown proverb
Please bask in your own individual beauty. Be aware of sleepwalking, unconsciously playing the same destructive tapes over and over. Seek new thoughts about yourself. Wake up and experience your fingers and toes and everything in between. Embrace the conscious truth, and love who you are.
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