So I’m sitting here with a blue mud mask on because I’ll believe anything. This product is (allegedly) from the Dead Sea (or La Mer Morte, as it says on the package, totally upping the believability factor, since, you know…French). I know it will work because it has bergamot in it, and whatever bergamot is, I know it’s going to do something fabulous. There’s a fly in our house, and it too is quite interested in the blue mud from the Dead Sea.
Here is what I observe as I sit, waiting for the mud to dry. It takes a long time. I know this because I just touched my face, and the mud is still wet, and now I have blue streaks of it on my keyboard. My skin has become very itchy all of a sudden. Still, fifteen minutes it said, and fifteen minutes it shall get. The French know about these things.
The phone likes to ring when I have blue mud drying on my face. Also, my glasses seem to be hardening onto my ear. The dog fears me with a blue face. I look a little like Mel Gibson in Braveheart. I just yelled “Freedom!” at the kids, resulting in Dearest Son saying, “You are not only fun, you’re funny.” Such a good boy. Princess laughed and said, “Oh, how blue you are, Mommy!” in the same tone she will someday say, “Oh, how cute you are, Mommy! Now back in your crate!”
Why the blue mud, you ask? I don’t know. I should be too old for this kind of thing, and yet, skincare products seduce me every time. The language, maybe. The French. The crèmes. The pseudo-science. Made with Q14. That could be horse manure for all I know, but oooh! Q14! The lovely words like serum and perfecting and, my personal favorite, elixir. Also, anti. Anti-sag, anti-wrinkle, anti-oxidant, anti-age. I love them all!
The fifteen minutes have passed. I fear I have left this on too long whilst Googling pictures of Linda Blair in The Exorcist to see if I look like her right now. Time to go carve this mud off! Or, as the French say, “Il y a un meunier qui naissent chaque minute.”
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