Let’s Get Dirty (Lemon)

Oh, I remember her. 20-something me who pitied women who lied about their age, colored their grays, lusted for lithe limbs and age-defying skin. You know, the Ponce de Leon broads.

Well, as 2017 marks one of those big birthdays, I kinda’ want to put that 20-something me in a double-reverse choke hold and yell, “You think you know, but you have no idea!” Yup, an MTV “Diary” reference. It’s the one with Christina Aguilera circa the early aughts. Iconic.

So, this aging thing is getting really real, including renegade grays that folks mistake for lint and actually try to wipe away. True story. I’ve also noticed that it is taking more effort to keep my aesthetic on point (translation: I’m not sure what I’m waking up to in the morning: dull skin, undereye bags, a belly pooch…a belly pooch!).

Yeah, 20-something me who said, “Laugh lines are a testament that I’m living” can suck it very hard.

I’m going to Angela Bassett it (i.e. age exquisitely) until the wheels fall off.

I’m Amtraking it *non-stop* to the Fountain of Youth. And Dirty Lemon just might be my ticket.

Apparently, I’m a little late on the Dirty Lemon train (*surprise, surprise I’m a hermit*), but I just took advantage of a Facebook promo, offering a case of detox and a case of skin + hair for the price of one, $65. I know, I know I’m a hypocrite. But I’ll be that…with amazing skin, hair and a sick bod. Oh yeah, you don’t have to starve yourself for this cleanse. You live your life (read: suck down all the coffee and pizza and wine you want) and treat each bottle as a mini S.O.S. pad for your insides. Was that too much of a visual? Sowwy. 

So for the next two weeks I’ll be Dirty Lemon-ing and I’ll definitely let you know how it goes.

In the meantime I leave you with this dirty (dirrty) ditty.