Gelly

Dear Beyonce,

I had a sad realisation last week. I realised that whatever I do in my life, I will never be as cool as you.

You see, you’re just so great. Every time I see a picture of you during my morning trashy-section-of-the-newspaper browse, I do a little chair dance. Because, to quote Leo Sayer (crossing musical genres, hope that’s ok with you), you make me feel like dancing.

Even when you got into hot water about lip synching at Obama’s inauguration, I was totally on your side. As was everyone. Because, hey, you’re Beyonce, the woman who gave the world Single Ladies: how could we NOT be on your side. Now put your hands up.

(I once tried to lip synch through a bad tutorial I was taking. It didn’t work. Further proof I will never be as cool as you).

If I had to put a finger on what makes you so cool, Beyonce, it’s that you NEVER, EVER look phased, or flustered. Even when you were busted lip synching. You kind of…glide, graciously, coolly. Like a glacier moving at an accelerated pace due to human induced climate change.

I don’t glide, graciously, coolly, or in the manner of a glacier. I fall down flights of stairs. I look phased, frequently, so much so that people stop me to ask what’s wrong (NOTHING! MY FACE IS JUST LIKE THIS ON ITS OWN!) I get flustered, stumble, and land in such a way that my shoe makes a distinctly fart-like noise on the linoleum, and I feel the need to clarify to assembled colleagues that the noise they just heard was not a fart, but a fart-like-sound, a faux fart, coming from my shoe.

Beyonce, I think you can start to see why I will never be as cool as you.

I have, however, recently discovered something that makes me feel a teeny, tiny bit cool, a bit glide-y. And that’s gell nails.

You see, trying to have nice nails, when you’re as much of a terminal clutz as I am, is setting yourself up for a big disappointment. You start off, all hopeful: you prep with base coat, you apply two to three layers of colour, finish with a top coat, and BAM! Fancy fingers.

The following morning, though, you wake up with sheet marks on your nails (and nail marks on your sheets). Or, by afternoon tea time, there’s a chip on your index nail and you just can’t help but notice it every time you glance down at your hands.

SIGH.

But, in come gell nail colours. Beyonce, they give clutzes like me a little bit of hope that we may, one day, be a little bit as cool as you.

Gell colours give TWO WEEKS of chip proof, smudge proof, shiny shiny nails. That’s the kind of gelly I’m ready for, if I may mangle the chorus of your Destiny’s Child hit.

And you know something, Beyonce? It’s really cool going through life with nice nails. Even though my face is doing its thing, and I’ve got my farty shoes on.

Cellulite: Not a Problem, Just a Solution Waiting to Happen

Cellulite. An ugly word for an even uglier phenomena. I’ve denied its existence this winter (the magic of America Apparel tights) but, as the days get longer and hemlines get shorter, denying the dimple is nigh on impossible.

I can’t, I won’t, accept what science tells me: that cellulite is always with us. I hope, I believe, that cellulite is not a problem, just a solution waiting to happen.

(And, yes, in case you were wondering, I’m a glass half full girl. For instance, I really, truly, believe that one day Julia Gillard and Tony Abbot will admit that they’re passionately, deeply, sexually-magnetically-pheremonically in love. The last three years of parliamentary debate? That wasn’t well informed political discussion. That was foreplay. DURH!).

In addition to my usual I-suppose-I-should behaviours of walking lots, going to the gym, not smoking - massive sadness - and eating all the good things (behaviours which are supposed to help say kthxbai to cellulite), I’m going to have a go at some possible cellulite solutions.

And, because I’m all about the caring and sharing, I’m going to run a series of posts on the efficacy of said solutions in removing thigh wobble, ass jiggle, and general unattractive lower body dimpling.

I could tell you what I’m thinking of trying, but I won’t, because that would spoil the fun. But I will share with you, this week, the first possible cellulite solution in my series of experiments.

Believing that classics are thus for a reason, I started with a product that, whilst not explicitly marketed as a treatement for cellulite, has a high impact factor in key discussions around cellulite solutions. That product is Palmer’s Cocoa Butter.

I bought some last Friday at Coles. In the interests of declaring experimental biases, my first impressions of Palmer’s Cocoa Butter were that the retro-cool packaging evokes a hard working authenticity. There is an air of: this is a product that works, without illustrations of remorselessly blasted fat cells to prove it.

Upon first application, a few principal advantages of Palmer’s Cocoa Butter emerged:
• it smells like chocolate;
• if you apply enough of it, you, too, will smell like chocolate:
• you can get it at Coles;
• it costs less than $10 a bottle; and
• it comes in a pump pack. (I always opt for the pump rather than the squeeze when it comes to beauty products. Every second counts when you run as late as I frequently do).

One week into the experiment, there is a general increase in thigh and bottom smoothness. While the cellulite is still a problem a solution waiting to happen, its incidence has decreased.

Arguably, an uncontrolled variable could be skewing these results. The increase in smoothness could be attributed to the strong, circular motions used to apply Palmer’s (it’s thick, you really have to work it in). Extensive literature published in reputable journals - Cleo, Cosmo, Marie Claire - suggests massage as an effective anti-cellulite intervention.

Confounding factors and alternate solutions will, of course, be explored in further experimental research.

Which means: watch this space, beauty geeks.