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Lady sings the Blues

Awhile back, I started using Aveda’s Blue Oil. I don’t know why, really, because I generally dislike things that don’t say what they are. Although, really, it’s blue and it’s oil. However, when it became one of my favorite parts of my monthly facials (insert Esteban saying ‘heh heh’ facial’ here), the part where Emme would massage my scalp with it, mussing my hair into a crazy Rock And Roll All Night Long style, with my bangs standing straight up into a fauxhawk. Then I would walk around for the rest of the day, not caring that I was without make up, shiny and red, but because my atmosphere now contained .1% mentholatey eucalyptusy goodness. Like living in a Pottery Barn, just for the afternoon. Not that I would want to, you know, live in a Pottery Barn. Except, really, I’m lying and I totally would because I love how tidy everything is. Also if you’re shopping and need to use a bathroom, go to the Pottery Barn. Best Bathrooms EVER. Restoration Hardware’s bathrooms are also very nice too, but they are in fewer malls and therefore, much more exotic a species of bathroom visits.

This is a side effect of proper hydration, by the way. Increased pickiness about bathroom visits.

But back to the Babe the Blue Oil: I finally bought a little vial and honestly, it potentially saved my life in December. I suspect that the Chicago Hilton is covered in a light sheen of mold spores, as the longer I stayed in that hotel, the more congested and snorky I became, until Foo walloped me with a pillow and ordered me to come back from the light and breathe, goddamn you, breathe! After the pillow fight, I rubbed some on my wrists (since I sleep with my hands near my face, just like the children in a Night Before Christmas illustration, except the sugar plum fairies in my dreams are always named Tyler or Rupert and usually make out quite a bit) and then also doused my bedclothes with it and was able to breathe clearly for the first time in days.

So naturally, my squirrel tendencies to be prepared kicked in and I bought several additional vials. One for my purse, one for my tote bag that goes to school and the office with me, and one for the bedside table. And I use it pretty regularly, most of the time dabbing it on my wrists, but sometimes on my neck too. You’re supposed to use it on your pulse points, but since I have very sensitive skin and the area near my temples breaks out on a pretty regular occasion, I avoid that. However, during meetings, I can’t sit there with my wrists up by my nose (unless I’m on a conference call in which case, yeah, my voice sounds muffled because I’m talking through my fingers), so I dab it in the area in front of my ears and along my jaw line.

There is some faulty logic happening there. I understand that.

At first I treated the subsequent irritation with some of my prescription acne stuff, but then I realized that it was not a cluster of zits but rather a rash. A rash that refuses to go away. I’ve had it now for a month. At some point this weekend, someone was talking about a product or maybe a food and declared ‘No, it’s ok because it’s all natural!’ and I wryly countered ‘So? Arsenic is natural too.’ Because I’m a bitch that way, but seriously, man, look at my cheek rash! It’s like I’m wearing a matching set of red bumpy dangle earrings. Stupid Aveda.

I can’t believe I just spent 600 words telling you about my stubborn rash.

But seriously: Aveda Blue Oil. Good stuff but it will bite you in the ass. And a rashy ass is very unattractive.

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