Yes, the products still work. Yes, my skin, eyelashes, and eyebrows continue to change.
My forehead creases are barely visible, and my skin is smoother, brighter, and moister. Look at the eyebrows and lashes. In the photo to the left–the before picture–I’m wearing mascara. On the right–7 weeks later–I’m not. They’re almost the same. My eyebrows and lashes have begun to thicken and darken. That’s the Lash Boost at work after only 3 weeks.
My eyebrows and lashes have begun to thicken and darken. That’s the Lash Boost at work after only 3 weeks.
And my journey’s unfinished. There’s more to the story.
A woman who hadn’t seen me at the froyo shop in a while remarked, “Your skin looks great. What did you do?”
My sister, Trudy, who’s been using Reverse for 5 weeks got her hair done recently from the same woman she sees every other month. She noticed how beautiful Trudy’s skin looked. For crying out loud, my oblivious father noticed how great her skin looks.
My friend, who started the Reverse Brightener regimen a few weeks ago, had a colleague mention how nice her skin looked when they met again after a month.
So why not?
I threw a big business launch party for a consultant who started her business with me. It was the first time I’d conducted this sort of affair.
Beforehand, I wondered what I should say. Should I get all teacherly on them and educate the partygoers with business and product facts. I knew a lot of them. I never get into something without excavating. A true researcher at heart, I want to know every inch of what interests me.
I chose to story tell, mostly, with some compelling fact spraying in between–the story of the business, the two women who own it, how I came to the business, and all the weaving, bobbing, and swerving that goes with the tales we tell.
The crowd was pleased, entertained, informed, even inspired–but not enough.
So I wondered after this party and in speaking with so many people about the skincare products, why people don’t jump on this stuff. Everyone I’ve ever spoken to about it agrees that the products do exactly what they claim to do.
But that’s typical of my thinking: It’s math. The products work. The ones they use don’t. They’re throwing money away on that stuff that doesn’t yield the results they want when this stuff does what they want.
Putting a premium on logic, it’s always been my downfall. What I’ve come to realize after a moment’s reflection (that’s all it took) is that buying–or not buying–is not logical. It’s almost entirely emotional. All kinds of wants and guilt and deserving and justification and preconceived notions about self and others and fear and you name it gets whipped up from the bowels of the sub and unconscious.
What I’ve come to realize after a moment’s reflection (that’s all it took) is that buying–or not buying–is not logical. It’s almost entirely emotional. All kinds of wants and guilt and deserving and justification and preconceived notions about self and others and fear and you name it gets whipped up from the bowels of the sub and unconscious.
It’s not math: 1+1=2 (skincare that works > skincare that doesn’t). It’s complicated. And all too human.
Observing human behavior is a hobby of sorts. I’m so sure that the rush of someone saying, “Hey, your skin looks great!” is powerful. I love it. But so many people, women especially, struggle with ‘deserving.’ I don’t know how else to describe it. But I recognize it.
We’re all a grab bag of experiences, inheritances, and cultural notions. And all these byproducts–ideas–compete in our heads for space and priority. Is it better to be self-effacing and humble or unabashedly proud of your best assets? When does confidence turn into arrogance? When did we draw those internal images of ourselves? And does that image ever change, have an expiration date, or come to light for interrogation?
Mesmerizing. Mind-blowing. Did we earn our birthrights? Did anyone “deserve” the lot they drew in being born rich, poor, healthy, ill, tall, short…?
What’s your story?
Though it’s exhausting (I’m out of practice), I’m enjoying the story swapping that goes on in socializing. Everyone is a story worth hearing. We’re all so different even as we’re all the same. That paradox never gets old.
The stories unfold daily. Mine’s longer than some, shorter than others’. My biographical facts differ from yours. But I think we’re all trying to eke out a little more happy before journey’s end. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it–for now.