Since posting the last blog, what, 72 hours ago, on the tightening effects of Preparation H to the face, I’ve had 4 men reach out to me via Instagram or my blog. Two bikers (as in, motorcycles), a radio executive and an author. Each one basically wrote: “You’re going to go out and buy this stuff?” And generally, my response has been: “Are you kidding? I’m going to take a bath in it.”
The women, on the other hand, have remained silent. As I’m hanging upside down like a bat this morning in sweaty yoga, I’m contemplating why it is that women haven’t made a peep. My conclusion? The women are driving down to the store and getting a few tubes, shaking their heads the whole way, wondering why in the world my mother didn’t raise me to have a bit more shame.
“Better her than me,” is what I imagine to be the common thought. My husband agrees.
“Can you see Nicole Kidman or Reese Witherspoon texting on Instagram the joys of a fanny ointment?” (Truth be told, I had to change a word or two of his quote for obvious reasons).
Yes, I know. Of all the important things to share with the universe, I’m covering this, but as my sister says: “This is life changing! People should know!”
I promise to go back and give more plugs for giveaways, new releases and exercise tips, trying to stick with the five-paragraph rule that seems to be the Holy Grail for bloggers, but it’s hard. My blog is like my invisible friend, the person who’s always there, nodding, agreeing with me, endlessly interested in whatever I write, like any true friend.
And a true friend cares about fannies and faces.