I obviously don’t do SILS anymore. I probably should’ve said something but I hoped, like a breakup with someone you really never want to see again, that if I ignored it long enough everyone would just get the hint. No one seemed to notice, which is good and bad. Good because I didn’t have to feel guilty and bad because it confirmed my worst fear, which is that no one really cared what I had to say about tampons or granola.
I quit because I thought I was fucking Sue Johanson with this shit and held myself to a weekly review of something that I recently used/liked/put in my vagina. Problem was, I quickly ran out of stuff and so when I sensed myself reaching (I almost did a post about a particular brand of bread), I realized that it was inauthentic and thus, defeated the purpose. But, I still put things in my vagina and feel the need to tell people about it so here I am.
I live minutes away from a Whole Foods, so I’m there a lot to bask in the thick, atmospheric pretension that occurs when you buy organic milk in a glass bottle for $8 and champion the benefits of locally grown produce. Oh, plus I really love those little Annie’s Homegrown cheddar bunnies. One thing that always caught my eye was this large bottle of liquid plastered with lots of quotes dealing with free speech, unity and a balanced diet…as it relates to God. The bottle alone is worth the price ($8-15 for 32 oz.) because it’s full of material that you could only expect to hear from a homeless dude warning everyone about World War III, but I assure you what’s inside is even better. Dr. Bronner’s castile soap claims 18 uses, and while some of them are only practical if you live in a commune, the few that I’ve found are exceedingly valuable for everyday use. Initially, I used Dr. Bronner’s (Tea Tree and Peppermint varieties) as a body wash and loved it. The lather produced from just a few drops is incredible and as an added bonus, that clean soap smell lingers with me throughout the day. From there, I used it to wash my hair, floors, counters, bras, and underwear. I haven’t used it as a laundry detergent yet, but Dr. Bronner’s claims that as a use as well. Additionally, Dr. Bronner’s is absolutely indispensable if you camp or travel a lot because it means that instead of packing shampoo, detergent, soap, toothpaste and mouthwash (when diluted, it can be used orally), you only have to make room for one bottle.
Dr. Bronner was kind of like a charitable, Jewish version of Charles Manson who believed in world peace instead of…race wars. Actually, the only thing they really have in common is the propensity to exhibit insanity that can be seen from space, which is something I happen to be intensely jealous of. Bronner is remarkable for many reasons (he promoted a method of birth control involving lemon juice and Vaseline), but paramount among them all is his line of castile soaps, which after his death in 1997, has remained owned and operated by his family.
So go answer the call of your inner Joan Baez and buy some now.
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I don’t have much of a skin regimen. I probably should so I don’t end up with a turkey neck or something, but I’m usually too tired to care about dealing with cotton balls, toners, lotions and elixirs containing rare essential oils from the skin of a mongoose. So, that’s probably why I had a planet on my forehead the other day. Usually, I wouldn’t care too much, because I rarely see the light of day as it is, but my boyfriend’s parents were coming into town and I panicked, not wanting them to think their son’s girlfriend has leprosy. To give you an idea of how bad it was, when I walked out of the bathroom after wishing I was never born, my boyfriend shrieked, “WHAT HAPPENED?” and after confirming that it wasn’t a bullet wound, said, “You really are a unicorn.” Once I castrated him for making me feel uglier than John Goodman’s ass hair, I applied some Neutrogena Rapid Clear and went to bed. The next day, my planet was still there, but at least it had shrunk to down to a manageable sized Mercury from its original Jupiter-like proportions. It did dry my skin out, so I wouldn’t recommend using it for your entire face, just when you sprout a boil like I did.