Product Placement

Isn’t it great when you come across something that’s gorgeous to use, doesn’t cost the earth and really works? In the world of beauty products this doesn’t happen that often. I sadly tend to find that the expensive stuff does a better job, that the hard-working cheaper stuff smells a bit funny, that the pleasant-to-use moderately priced stuff is nice but has little effect…

You get the picture. Anyway, if you are an avid Product Placement fan (and I’m talking to both of you here) you’ll know that this headline announces the arrival of a bite-size chunk of beauty chat, centred on a single product that I’m trying out and enjoying (hence the title). It’s not, as my husband pointed out, a lazy way of avoiding thinking up another headline. Well it is a bit. Continue reading…

Before I continue, I would like to make it clear that I love Jennifer Aniston, and if we met in real life, we would get on like a house on fire and end up being inseparable and possibly swapping clothes. (Except that she would put mine in the ‘garbage’ and I would not being able to get into any of hers. Whatevs.)

Last week though, some shocking news landed in my inbox from one of the many quality publications I subscribe to for research purposes. (Heat, probably.) Jennifer has a flat stomach. I know. It has taken me until today to pick my lower jaw up off the floor. After all, she’s never grown a baby in the aforementioned abdomen, and has thousands – nay millions – of dollars to spend solely on looking phenomenal. Continue reading…

How’s your January been? Personally, I’ve got through this joyless month with copious amounts of hot coffee in the morning, and equally copious amounts of Aussie red in the evening.

As far as I’m concerned, January is difficult enough to endure as it is without adding some kind of hideous ‘detox’ to the slow march towards payday. Isn’t leaving for AND returning from work in the pitch dark grim enough? Why throw fennel tea and some kind of homemade granola into the mix? The thought of it makes me want to slam my head into the keyboard before hotfooting it to the ‘drinks cabinet’ (bottle of cheap red by the sink). Continue reading…

I’m no Gok, so I’m not going to try and persuade you to prance about with nowt on at all. But there are times in our lives when you just want to feel like you’re pretty damn hot when you’re wearing next to nothing. Admittedly that’s more likely to happen in the summer, but hell, you have to put the work in for the rest of the year so I’m not going to apologise for an untimely post.

‘Romantic’ situations are made easier by the control that you generally have over the lighting. Although I once had a boyfriend who had a fluorescent strip light in his bedroom. (He wasn’t weird, it was a University-owned flat. OK, he was a bit weird, but for different reasons.) Trips to the local swimming baths with your baby are made easier by the fact that you are so busy trying to stop them drink the water/poo in the water/ drown in the water that you don’t give a tiny rat’s arse what your thighs look like. Continue reading…

My other half and I have been known to go out for a sherry or two together. These days, thanks to Offspring, it’s a rarer treat. But when it does happen, I find that during the evening, our tastes are remarkably similar. We both like a reassuringly expensive lager or two. Tops, if you don’t mind. And neither of us would say no to a famous bourbon with an equally famous cola-flavoured mixer, if you know where I’m coming from. All, obviously, in strict moderation, and never – ok, rarely – descending into any kind of consumption of the mutually venerated aniseed flavour liquor that’s usually drunk from small shot glasses.

It’s the next day that our tastes differ wildly. Feeling a little toxic, I can’t think of anything nicer to put into my battered constitution than some really fresh, healthy food. It feels like it’s only fair. I’ve done the crime, now I need to eat wholemeal toast with organic grilled tomatoes and poached free-range eggs. Thankfully, there’s no fighting over the hob. That’s because hubby is happy to pull from the fridge the likes of a Ginster’s Buffet Bar. It’s a kind of penis-shaped Scotch egg, with the egg part substituted with coleslaw. Seriously. Continue reading…

It would certainly be more rational to have a profound fear of something that could actually harm me. Sharks: makes sense – they do after all eat people. Snakes: not that friendly, despite what some Goths would probably tell you. Spiders: small admittedly, but they do come in a few lethal varieties. But no, my phobia is one of those annoying, girly, nonsensical ones: I absolutely loathe moths and butterflies.

I inherited this hatred from my mother. Despite her best efforts, if one of the offending insects got into the house when we were kids, I could somehow sense her fear when she closed the door on it, “so we can show daddy when he gets home”. I think in retrospect the fact that she turned white and had beads of perspiration on her brow was a giveaway, even at the tender age of four. Continue reading…

As much as I consider myself a tolerant person… Actually, I’ll rephrase that. Sometimes I can be a reasonably tolerant person, but there are certain places where there is too much interaction with the General Public for my liking. It doesn’t matter so much on a night out. You’re drunk, and you’ve chosen to be at the bar, squashed against a 47-year-old moustachioed mortgage adviser wearing a ‘Rage Against The Machine’ t-shirt.

But public transport is another matter entirely. You’re only there because you can’t afford to be whisked, Brad and Angelina style, from one glamorous location to another in a hermetically-sealed, public-proof and preferably also time-travelling car. And being in such close proximity to the General Public means that you get to see them (crusty earring holes and all), hear them (sniffing and then swallowing the result) and, worst of all, smell them (Wotsit breath with a top note of fart). Continue reading…

Sometimes when I speak to my other half, he looks at me as though I’m talking in that African language, you know, the one with the clicking noises. Don’t get me wrong, I’m no subscriber to the whole Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Blah Blah Blah thing. It’s just that when it comes to the world of beautification, I often feel as though I get more understanding from the baby.

It can work in my favour. Comments like “What’s cellulite again, the stuff they inject into your lips?” make me want to parade around the house in my negligee. (Do I have one? I seriously doubt it. But you get the idea.) And when he said that he “hadn’t noticed” the spot on my chin that was approaching the size of Portugal, I knew he wasn’t being polite because, well, he’s really just not that polite. And would tell me. Then try and squeeze it.

Of course, there are times when the language difficulties are not so handy. Like when I sent him out for some ‘beauty essentials’ during that awkward, post-baby, confined-to-barracks week. He came back with some Atrixo and a pack of Tena Lady. I had issues, believe me; it was just that dry hands and feminine incontinence did not happen to be included. And then there’s the whole ‘turning the bathroom into a spa’ thing. Maybe I should just say I’m going for a bath – but I like to garnish things a little. However, when my other half began to research online why planning permission for any form of spa-type bathroom improvements on a property over a hundred years old was fraught with red tape, it was time to consider writing some sort of phrase book.

We’ll leave that for another day. Because right now, I’m going to talk about turning the bathroom into a spa to people who not only understand what I mean – they actually do it too. That’s you, by the way. (Or maybe you’re the person who found my blog by Googling “Pictures of Robson Green”, in which case, leave now.)

So what’s good for a really spa-like soak in the tub? As partial as I am to a bubble or two, I think given the choice I’d opt for something kind of milky because it feels like your skin is really benefiting and also has a kind of Cleopatra vibe to it, if you know what I mean. For that reason I rate (gasps of amazement from regular readers) Elemis Milk Bath (£39.00. Ouch.). It’s got a lovely soothing smell and actually contains oat extract, which is well known for easing dry skin conditions. Equally cloudy but not quite as therapeutic is Jo Malone’s Bath Oil (£37.50). This is a great one for when you really want to fill the bathroom, or indeed the house, with a gorgeous fragrance. I’m currently using the ‘Nectarine Blossom & Honey’ but most of her scents are luscious and the oil will last you for ages.

For a bit more foam, I’d always go to my beloved Lush and get a bubble bar. They’re around 2 or 3 quid each, which obviously relegates them to special occasion bathing, but boy are they bubblicious. You crumble them under the running tap, which is always a test because they look really edible – especially the ‘Ma Bar’, containing as it does cocoa and a brown sugar lump. It’s not just a gimmick though, it really does smell divine and soften your skin. The herby ‘Green Day’ is a good choice too. And while you’re in the bath (Are you? Weirdo.) I’ll quickly tell you about a magnificent scrub that my friend Fiona bought me last year but that has lasted ages and is just great. It’s Ren’s Ginger Revivo-Tonic Two Sugar Body Scrub (£22.00). Pricey (thanks, Fiona) but a fabulous combination of slight oiliness, effective abrasiveness and the smell of really nice cake. You wouldn’t get that from Atrixo.

It’s morning chez moi. Sunlight pours into a vast, uncluttered bedroom, interrupted only by the billowing white gauze curtains. In the marital bed, my husband and I, both lightly bronzed and clad in simple yet sexy white underwear, embrace passionately. We laugh as we are disturbed by the patter of feet – it’s the children! Similarly clothed in immaculate white, they run giggling to the bed. We all laugh, have a pillow fight, and then descend for pancakes and freshly squeezed juice.

Of course, this is complete rubbish. A genuine scenario goes more like this: It’s morning chez moi. I’m not sure if what’s woken me is the strimmer-like sound of my other half snoring, or the strange hooting noise coming through the baby alarm. Either way, it’s 6.45am, still dark, and feels like I shut my eyes about 15 minutes ago. I cuddle into the strimmer but then change my mind as I notice that my top is not only on back-to-front, but appears to have vomit on it. A quick feel of my head confirms that my hairstyle would not have looked out of place on Whitesnake’s 1984 ‘Slide It In’ Tour. And although I may have removed my make-up, my face is as puffy as the wolf in the Three Little Pigs. What to do? Follow my own advice and try some of my Top Tips For Waking Up Gorgeous.

1. I know I bleat on about it every week but fake tan is rather good and putting it on at night is a great idea (if your companion can bear the carvery smell). Johnson’s have made one especially for this purpose, their Holiday Skin Body Lotion Night (£4.99 ish) that promises to help you ‘get glowing while you sleep’. Cor.

2. I won’t/can’t get all scientific on you but it makes sense that while you’re asleep, any anti-ageing/skin refining type products will be able to do a better job. I’ve been using something rather fancy this week, admittedly from a sample, but it’s making me look like Madonna will at about 70, so mustn’t grumble. It’s Ren’s Revivo-Lift H11 Intensive Night Serum (£45.00). Don’t feel obliged.

3. Hair products will always be a messy business if you’re going to use them at night but it can be worth the clean pillowcase. Get as much excess water out of your locks as possible, slap on something like Umberto Giannini Overnight Moisture Balm (£4.99) or Redken’s Real Control Overnight Treat (about £25), then do a French plait starting from right up by your fringe. You will look dreadful (especially if your ears are on at the same angle as mine) but it will be worth it in the morning.

4. We’ve talked cracked heels before and Burt’s Bees do a kit that actually includes night socks. You can do something similar for your feet and hands – assuming that is, you’ve ruled out getting any action, which if you’ve followed steps 1 to 3 you will have by now. Vaseline or liquid paraffin (see, I’m not always high maintenance) slathered on ridiculously thickly, then covered with cotton socks and gloves really works. Who has cotton gloves? Not me. Put some tennis socks over your hands. And maybe wait till your dearest is not so near, at a conference in Birmingham perhaps.

5. If you’re wearing socks on your hands, sporting a hairstyle best left in 1987 and smelling like meat, you’re probably ready to say “In for a penny…”. So, why not chuck on a heavy-duty night time cellulite treatment like Fat Girl Sleep by Bliss (£32)? Who knows, you might wake up looking like Scarlett Johansen. Right, I’m off to buy some pancake mix.

Can slapping cream on an area of your body really make it slimmer? My limited scientific knowledge (GCSE Biology) isn’t enough for me to work it out, but I’m inclined to think probably not. What I believe a good body product can do though is improve the quality of your skin – making it more elastic and firmer, which will in turn make the ‘troublesome areas’ (as They like to call them) less – er – troublesome. In other words, you won’t look as much like a plate of turkey mince when you’re parading around in your undies.

Rather than test the ridiculous amount of anti-cellulite treatments that are out there (I’ll save that for nearer the summer holidays), I thought I’d talk this week about tummy toning products. It follows on nicely from my last post for new mums. Mind you, the need for a bit more firmness around the belly can strike at any time in your life. And at any time of year, although the post-winter period we’re in now is when we’re most likely to look down and see something that resembles a semi-perished beige balloon.

So, since Christmas, I have been trying to eat less – and ignore my hungry innards, which have taken to making noises like Frankie Howerd. I’ve also been giving the following miracle workers a few weeks each to both astound me and make my beige balloon look more like a real human abdomen. Not too much to ask, surely?

First up in those particularly tricky post-festive-season weeks was the priciest, Tummy Toner by Mamma Mio. In spite of the brand name, this serum is for ‘ageing and weight loss’ as well as post-pregnancy ‘issues’. And by heck is it worth the £44.00. It smells fabulous and my skin honestly did seem to tighten and firm. You can use it anywhere you like, too – thighs, upper arms… Which is why I ran out, and moved onto the thankfully less expensive (£15.00) Korres Avocado and Almond Butter body cream. I know I’ve mentioned Korres a couple of times but I think they’re rather super, this cream being no exception although maybe not as dramatically effective as the Mamma Mio serum. Well, it was thirty quid cheaper.

Cocoa Butter – you either love it or you hate it, and I have to say I think I might hate it, particularly after two weeks of slathering on the Body Shop’s classic range. It’s just too sweet and chocolatey for me, but you can get the whole kit (Creamy Body Wash, Body Scrub and Body Butter) for just £25.00, and it did make my skin pretty soft, including the ‘troublesome areas’.

Finally, if you’ve been paying attention, you’ll know that this week I was using a Therapy Massage Bar from Lush. I quite liked this, once I’d worked out what to do with it between uses (a soapdish is the only answer). It’s pretty easy to apply and seemed to smooth the perished balloon a bit, although that could just be the after-effects of the Mamma Mio stuff.

Frankly, I’d love to tell you that something marvellously cheap made my belly turn into Natalie Portman’s. But that would be weird. So instead, I’ll say this. Life’s too short to have a really flat stomach, so my (unsolicited, sorry) advice is just slap on what you can afford and go and make some pasta. That’s what I’m going to do. Ta-ra.