My face.

 No.  I'm not going as Freddie Krueger for Halloween.  Although I may want to consider it.  Yesterday I donated my face to science.  And here are the results.  It actually looks much much worse in person.  I wish you could see it.  No, actually I don't.  No, actually I do, or I wouldn't have taken half a dozen photos of myself and put them online.

I've donated plasma, been a hair model (not like in a Pantene commercial, but as in if you let them do whatever they want to your hair, the color is free!), a mystery shopper, a taste-tester, and pimped myself out in various other completely voluntary ways, but this one is worth documenting.  It started off as an opportunity to get a scar blasted by a new laser that the staff in Ben's office were training on.  The scar is on my forehead over my right eye.  I put it there myself while testing an Ecuadorian herbal product that removes moles.  It works.

But, as happens when you go to a plastic surgeon's office (or to a Vietnamese nail salon) you get more services offered than you had planned on getting...or felt you needed.  Actually the latter part is not completely true.  I have plenty of melanin that has worked it's way up to the surface that I would love to jettison.  So when the opportunity presented itself, I capitalized.  Plus I think these procedures are really expensive.

The pictures below are from yesterday, right after the procedure.  I am intrigued by the pattern, which looks as if I fell asleep on a miniature honeycomb.  A very very hot one. I didn't get to see the laser doing it's thing because then I would be blind (or have 20/20 vision), but it felt like a fine point pen was applying molten lava on my face, accompanied by snapping and popping and the smell of burnt something...skin I guess (not chicharones).  They had kindly applied lidocaine to my face prior to, but I'm not sure it made a difference, because they hit a couple places that hadn't been numbed and it felt the same.

Yesterday it wasn't so bad, except that I looked completely ridiculous with 2 cm of Aquaphor on my face.  I would like to blame the petroleum jelly for my awful hair, but no, that's just how it looks in general.  The photos below are from today.  When I asked the doctor how much "downtime" there would be, he said only 3-4 days and you will just look like you have a sunburn.  Uh, yeah, if I lived on the first rock from the sun. But pain (and ugliness) is just hyperpigmintation leaving the body.

I had been planning on going to the gym this morning as usual.  But in an effort to not make people feel uncomfortable, I stayed home and had an ice cream bar to kick off Miles' birthday.  If my face gets worse I will make sure to let you know. 

Day Three Update - Not much better. Maybe worse. And I didn't get the 20/20 I had hoped for.

Day Five - Almost out of the woods.

Day Six - Flaky.  Not sure if my skin is better than it was 7 days ago or if it is just relatively better from a few days ago.  Ben says the results continue over a course of a few weeks.

Good Stuff

I am glad I took the time this evening to get a babysitter and go listen to this broadcast. It is also one of the reasons why Dieter Uchtdorf will take the crown as my 2011 crush (succeeding Rick Bayless 2010)*. There is something for every woman in this talk.

*Ben's 2011 crush is Ryan Gosling.

Tonsils.

Ben just finally could take it no longer - the fact that our kids had an abundance of perfectly good nodular tissue at the back of their throats just irritated him to no end. He was determined that it come out.* I was afraid he might take matters into his own (capable, I'm sure) hands and try an at-home procedure, so I agreed to schedule the surgery. (I do not agree with this plan of action necessarily - the kids get their gigantic tonsils from me and I still have mine, plus I'm certain that there is an equally effective homeopathic treatment should a problem arise)

They were running a 2-for-1 tonsellectomy special at the hospital this month so we thought we'd go ahead and get the two older kids taken care of.

They didn't seem to be too concerned about their surgery, it probably helped that they had each other. Also, we had been discussing getting Avery's tonsils out for over a year now so she was prepared. The trip to the grocery store the day before didn't hurt either. We came home with every manner of frozon confection and then some. Bomb Pops, Klondike bars, Push-ups, Fudgecicles, slow-melt Ice-Age popsicles, 5 flavors of Dreyers Real Fruit bars (coconut are our current favorite), Fat Boys, gelato and just some plain ol' ice cream. Fortunately, we have two freezers.


Day of surgeryOn the way to the O.R.

Avery takes up prime real estate in the waiting room.

You won't be smiling for long...

Perioperative Bomb-Pop. This is after the screaming and the parental abuse (hitting his parents) subsided. Ben was not the surgeon for this procedure, he just got to play dad.

"I said, Don't touch me". A warning given to mom, dad and her nurses and anyone who dare try to comfort her. This one is punctuated by a kick.

The kids are lucky that their dad shared his popscicles with them at all.

Coming out of anethesia was devestating as a parent. It was so sad. They both tried to rip the IV out of their hands and both said that they didn't want their tonsils out after all. Miles requested that his be put back in. The next few days were bliss as they slept a lot and couldn't really speak, and when they did it was meekly. Avery was considerably nicer (not that she's not nice) and helpful with Cruz even when she was recovering. Ben said it's like castrating a dog - it takes the fight out of them. I thought for a while that maybe they had actually performed a lobotomy. But, while her voice is slightly different - not quite as husky, a bit more high pitched and raspy now - the old confident, bossy to her brother Avery is back after a few weeks. Miles may never forgive us, but he sure liked eating a dozen popsicles every day. Neither one of them wanted any medicine in the days following which was a surprise given that they always love to try and find an excuse to take Tylenol otherwise. What was not a surprise given that we were warned by a friend who had just recently experienced this - was the most horrific dragon breath the kids had. But I guess rotting, cauterized tissue smells pretty awful. With both kids in the back seat we would have to roll the windows down for fresh air for at least 10 days after.

I'm glad that it's all over, I hope that it provides some kind of benefit to them in their lifetime and I hope Cruz doesn't need his removed.

*Really the kids have problems sleeping - mouths open, snoring etc.

The best run.

The perfect amount of hills, the perfect mileage. Perfect view.

It's only suffering if you don't like it.

Triple Threat Tri Series - Race #2

Sprint 1/2 mile swim, 15 mile bike, 5K run

(My number was 866 - not 998 like I wore it on my bike helmet.)

The two Sara(h)'s and myself pre-race.

Saw this sign right before entering lake for start of race. Decided to try to outswim larvae.

Felt a little dizzy after swim - but not itchy. That is not me in the wetsuit.

This is where I bonked. Could someone get this gal a Coke?

Stats:

Overall* Age ----- Swim ----- ----- Bike ----- ----- Run ----- Total

Place Rank Name Age Rnk Time Pace Rnk Time Pace Rnk Time Pace Time
17 4 Lynn Westbrook 31 2 13:54 27:48 6 51:42 3:27 7 28:27 9:29 1:34:04

Times include transitions.

Christmas Comes Early

If I could have after-hours access and an unlimited shopping spree my store of choice would hands down be Sephora. I'm not even a real makeup person but I'm a sucker for serums and salves and creams and free samples. Before I go on, I have to back up to the not being a makeup person bit - I used to not be a makeup person - I always considered myself a mascara and lipgloss for special occasions type of girl. I look terrible in lipstick by the way. Terrible. Every shade.

But I'm quickly becoming a primer, concealer, creme blush, liquid eyeliner, mascara, set with powder every day type of girl. It's not that I love makeup all the sudden, it's more that it's what my face requires to look normal these days. Since turning thirty I'd say I have acne more days than not (I read recently that Kate Winslet has the same problem so phew I'm not alone) and in general things are rapidly deteriorating (hopefully I'll find that my apartment just has bad lighting...). So due to these issues I recently made a trip to Sephora to find a glycolic acid product that might solve some of my woes. After consulting with the salesgal I scored some samples and settled on the PTR Unwrinkle Peel Pads (despite the name, I wanted them mostly for the zit issue anything else is just a bonus*). I got home and after doing the dinner and bedtime routine with the kids I was excited to go have some alone time with Peter Thomas Roth. I unwrap the product and ta-da! The silver "try-me" sticker is staring right at me. I had made it home with the half empty and most certainly bacteria ridden sample container!!!!!

I thought for sure I had grabbed from the back of the aisle and couldn't believe that the gal who rang me up didn't notice that she was wrapping up an item without it's safety seal intact. Sephora is not so close so I called and told them of the mistake. They said they would send a new one right away and I could do whatever I wanted with the tester. I couldn't wait to try it so I discarded the top few pads, said a prayer that I wouldn't get infected with anything incurable and started my treatment. A few days later my new one arrived - in a box FULL of samples - some deluxe. I love Sephora and I love the guy who packed my box o' beauty up. Merry Christmas to me.


*Product update 1/08 - The PTR pads are pretty good - they burn but that just tells me it's working on something. I think it's having more of an effect on any scarring/redness I have more than the active eruptions and I've decided I prefer the DDF Glycolic Toner as an exfoliant. As for the acne. Two days of using McKay's leftover Proactive while in CA and it was all clear - my eyebrows were a shade lighter (beware - it will also bleach colored towels) but I'm sold. Proactive worked for me.

Short Cut

Time for my bi-annual hair cut and attempt at redoubling my efforts regarding appearance. Instead of continuing the constant creep toward a short-cut I just went for it this time. I had originally planned to either go darker and keep it long or blonder and shorter but I ended up with the above.

Considering that sunny days are supposedly few and far between here (I haven't felt that way...yet) and with the chance that a ray of light would actually catch my glowing streaks growing more slim - I also said aloha to highlights and opted to return to a darker hue. As hapened when I had "gone dark" once before, and despite my requests not to have it turn out red - it is very reddish at times - think Eastern-Bloc affinity for reddish dye red. In the picture it doesn't appear so and even though this was taken at the salon on the day it was cut, I think it is shorter than the picture shows also. Probably because my hair bends and shrinks in the moisture. Speaking of moisture, although I am not known for fabulous hair styles, the before picture is particularly hideous because a) it was raining outside and b) the owner or the salon gave my head a good ruffle to make it look even worse.

A princess gets her crown(s).

Due to neglect on her parents part, ultra-thin primary tooth enamel, lack of fluoride in the water, genetics and a love for all things chocolaty and candy coated, A. now has the makings of what is sure to be a fine looking grill someday.


Although she wasn't too keen on the tools they were using (note to dentist - they still hurt even when your assistants give them cutesy names) she is actually quite proud of her silver teeth. Although her mother is slightly embarrassed that her daughter now looks like a kid from the Ozarks who sipped soda through their bottle as a baby (must be those Missouri roots in us), she is proud to show them to anyone she meets. Especially adults who might have a silver tooth or two of their own - i.e. the checker at Walgreens, whom I'm pretty sure had diamonds in hers. I guess we'll have to ask for the fancy ones next time.


There will not be a next time.


However, I am kinda glad that until they fall out we don't have to spend all that much time brushing those silver beauties.

Banana Man Chase

It doesn't take much to convince me to run 3.1 miles. Give me a coupon for a free smoothie and I'm there. I also, despite popular belief, enjoy having a reason to get up early every once in a while. Because I don't have a gym membership and find it difficult to find motivation to go running, not to mention having someone to watch the kids so I can go (I gave up the jogging stroller thing about 2 years ago - it's just not what a run is supposed to be for me) I need things to "train" for - besides life.

The run was great, I didn't realize Honolulu would be so hot at 7am though, but I managed, thanks to a b-day running outfit made of moisture-wicking bamboo fibers. In addition to a Jamba Juice coupon they were blending up some Groovy Guava on the spot which was a welcome refresher and the best part was a free* massage that lasted at least 10 minutes.

On the down side, I didn't read the fine print when I picked up my packet the day before and missed a bit of info that was important in the timing of the race. I was supposed to get my ChampionChip ankle timer before the start. I only noticed once I was in the starting pack that everyone else had gotten the message and no, they weren't all wearing an alcohol monitoring anklet. I didn't have time to go seek one out because I had made a pit stop on the drive in at Starbucks, thinking that the Porta-Potty lines would be awfully long. I hadn't even considered that they might not have potties at all. So forgoing the Chip was actually the lesser of two evils. So due to my inability to follow the rules I got no official time and no chance to win free Jamba Juice for a year by placing in the top three in my age group. Which is 30-39 now (eek). But I crossed the line at 23:13**despite a lifesize banana running in circles around me as I sprinted to the finish (what I had thought was cute at the beginning of the race was quite annoying when you're sucking wind at the end)

*Technically all of these "free" things cost me $25 in entry fees.
**Had I had the chip the time would have been faster (by maybe 5 seconds) as it starts your time as you cross the start line, instead of when the gun goes off and the elite runners take off, and what I mean by elite is, if you can get by wearing only a sportsbra. My time for the last 5K I did almost exactly a year ago was 25:20. So, so far, 30 is feeling good.

I feel younger already.

I wish I could say that I got Botoxed to cure headaches, excessive sweating or some other medical necessity but I didn't. I wish it were for research or investigative reporting but it wasn't. A shameless plot to increase our stock in Allergan? Afraid not.

Pure and simple vanity, curiosity and a good deal got the best of me.

And I love it.

I've been thinking about it off and on since Ben mentioned that I might want to try it about two years ago (this time frame most likely correlates with a rotation in plastic surgery, dermatology or ENT). The area of concern is the vertical crease between the eyebrows (corrugator muscle). Which for some reason - genetics, overworking the muscle (i.e.-one too many years of dirty looks directed at B.), sun-exposure (only in the last four years have I become a sunblock addict, which leaves a lot of years of outdoor sports and lifeguarding to account for), etc. has resulted in a fairly deep wrinkle that even when I try to smooth out, remains. It may be one of the reasons the bang thing was working for me. Furthermore, and what pushed me to the edge of actually researching it, when I wake up in the morning the line is deeper and I feel like I have been scrunching up my face for hours. I blame this on not having shades for our windows, causing light to stream in multiple sides of my room in the morning; I think I must be trying to block it out by scrunching. So maybe I should have invested in some shades instead, but when I get something in my mind I usually have to try it before I can be through with it.

Long chain of events shortened, I got half-off a treatment from a renowned plastic surgeon and the appointment was set. I briefly considered canceling it, but after being reminded that this was a preventative (as well as corrective) measure I went ahead with it.

Being in a plastic surgeons office is a strange thing, especially at my age. You want to size up the people in the waiting room and guess what they are having or have had done. For some it's obvious. I was hoping that anyone giving me the once over would be wondering what I could possibly be needing, or guessing that I had been skillfully attended to already. I was fairly confident that the doctor himself would question why I was there. I couldn't have been more wrong. If I thought that going into a nail salon for a manicure and being asked if I was there for an eyebrow wax was unflattering then I was about to be humiliated.

The doctor, who is in his 70's, comes in and without even introducing himself grabs a handheld mirror and holds it in front of my face while saying "I wish you would let me do a brow lift" (brows spontaneously go up at this point, perhaps in horror and fear of being displaced) and he proceeds to show me where my brows are headed and where they "should" be as well as indicating that he would simply remove the corrugator muscle entirely, resulting in a completely smooth forehead, no Botox required (I picture Nicole Kidman). He says it will instantly "youthinize" you (I am actually just guessing here that he meant it as a made-up word and not euthanize although I didn't verify this). So I say, "if you remove that muscle then how will my husband know when I'm mad at him" and he replies "well you don't want him to think you're mad at him when you're not". Touché.

He leaves the room to prepare for the procedure and leaves me with the mirror which I make a few faces in and then put down. Still stunned by the turn of events, I am resolved not to even think of such a thing. He even wanted to remove the mole beneath my left eye. Never! Suddenly Botox doesn't seem so extreme. I see an eye cream I am interested in trying out advertised in a magazine and start searching for a pen to make a note of it. I can only find surgical markers in a drawer but I use one anyway.

He returns and 5 minutes and 4 (I think) slightly painful injections later I am handed a purple ice pack and am good to go. I pick up the mirror one last time and am amazed at the transformation. I look 28 again!


Before

After