Celluliteyness
I should've made this post weeks ago.
I rediscovered our 20 lbs of Dove Firming Supplies hoarded away in my mother's girly-fufu-hairsupply-makeup-dove cabinet in her bathroom. Seeing a few rows of the same exact lotion bottle lined up one after the other not only provided me with a nice chuckle, but also reminded me how my mom had put it to the test (and how the test turned out.)
Stalkers, I bring you the femmes of the Trotter resident's first( and probably only ). . .
"FIRM THIS, DOVE!" challenge.
The instructions on the bottle say to rub in circular motions on cellulitey regions, so my clever mother chose her butt and thighs as the contestants to go under attack. Pushing aside the fact that that was most likely a little more information anyone was willing to hear, think or read about, her results were, yes indeed, successful. I, however, figured it out the hard way when we were outside Downtown Corvallis. She hiked up her shorts, struck a Superwoman-esque pose and yelped "I'm FIIIIIRM!". . .
And of course, yours truly was shaking her head throughout the duration of the challenge (and the very-well declared results), so now, the only logical next step would be to provide you with my very own interpretation of the firming process.
Alright, it's fairly self explanatory as to why a lotion that claims to rid a body of celluliteyness would attract middle-aged women (though I'm still hooked on the reason being that the bottle has "firm" and "cream" written on it). And when you really think about it, for as much circular rubbing these over-zealous women will be achieving in one day, something is bound to change. Physically, or mentally. Done!
Moving on to things that are clearly less important. Here, have a picture.
On Saturday, my brother and I were unwillingly tugged to my cousin Nicole's wedding. Sure, it sounds a bit cold, but the only memory I really have of spending time with Nicole was when I was into Barbies and Polly Pockets. Blah blah, so the actual vow part of the schpeel was over in 5, 10 minutes because we were all seated in the insane hot.
They decided to do some ancient Native American ritual done at weddings where they had 15-20 butterflies locked up in a box, which they (attempted to) release and have them fly away, signifying a long lasting marriage. Seven of them died and one flew in to their candle.
Once convincing ourselves it was time to take off, we unpleasantly remembered the reception following afterwards. The reception was alright, I suppose, but neither myself, my brother or my dad were expecting to be there for five hours. I spent the whole time swinging on a padded wooded swinging bench while fanning myself and the bees away.
|||Now Playing : Death From Above 1979 - "Sexy Results"|||
I rediscovered our 20 lbs of Dove Firming Supplies hoarded away in my mother's girly-fufu-hairsupply-makeup-dove cabinet in her bathroom. Seeing a few rows of the same exact lotion bottle lined up one after the other not only provided me with a nice chuckle, but also reminded me how my mom had put it to the test (and how the test turned out.)
Stalkers, I bring you the femmes of the Trotter resident's first( and probably only ). . .
"FIRM THIS, DOVE!" challenge.
The instructions on the bottle say to rub in circular motions on cellulitey regions, so my clever mother chose her butt and thighs as the contestants to go under attack. Pushing aside the fact that that was most likely a little more information anyone was willing to hear, think or read about, her results were, yes indeed, successful. I, however, figured it out the hard way when we were outside Downtown Corvallis. She hiked up her shorts, struck a Superwoman-esque pose and yelped "I'm FIIIIIRM!". . .
And of course, yours truly was shaking her head throughout the duration of the challenge (and the very-well declared results), so now, the only logical next step would be to provide you with my very own interpretation of the firming process.
Alright, it's fairly self explanatory as to why a lotion that claims to rid a body of celluliteyness would attract middle-aged women (though I'm still hooked on the reason being that the bottle has "firm" and "cream" written on it). And when you really think about it, for as much circular rubbing these over-zealous women will be achieving in one day, something is bound to change. Physically, or mentally. Done!
Moving on to things that are clearly less important. Here, have a picture.
On Saturday, my brother and I were unwillingly tugged to my cousin Nicole's wedding. Sure, it sounds a bit cold, but the only memory I really have of spending time with Nicole was when I was into Barbies and Polly Pockets. Blah blah, so the actual vow part of the schpeel was over in 5, 10 minutes because we were all seated in the insane hot.
They decided to do some ancient Native American ritual done at weddings where they had 15-20 butterflies locked up in a box, which they (attempted to) release and have them fly away, signifying a long lasting marriage. Seven of them died and one flew in to their candle.
Once convincing ourselves it was time to take off, we unpleasantly remembered the reception following afterwards. The reception was alright, I suppose, but neither myself, my brother or my dad were expecting to be there for five hours. I spent the whole time swinging on a padded wooded swinging bench while fanning myself and the bees away.
|||Now Playing : Death From Above 1979 - "Sexy Results"|||
posted by Katy at 11:31 PM
1 Comments:
Well, I can tell you one thing: You were right. That probably was much more information than I needed. But aside from that, I really have to laugh at you for having to stay at that wedding for so long. So here it is: Hahahahahahahahahahahahaha. Okay, I'm done.
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