On being 30, but more specifically why my skin can suck it.

If you recall, I had no fears about turning 30. There was no drama, no "woe is me," and in fact, I rather embraced it. I believe my mantra was, "30, I'm gonna rock the shit outta you."

And so I have. Thus far, 30 has been quite a ride and honestly no different from my 20s, save for oh, you know, having a toddler, a mortgage and being asleep in my very own bed at midnight. It's glorious, really.

The part that's not so glorious? My skin is having a mental breakdown. I know what you're thinking, and it has nothing to do with being pregnant, I promise.

Anyway, this 30 year old version of my largest organ (did you know that?) is very uncool. It's like my pores went though the opposite of the Honey I Shrunk The Kids machine and took over my T-Zone like ants on a Dum Dum sucker. Probably the gross ??Mystery?? flavor kind, too, just to make the analogy worse.

Anyway, everyone and their pet monkeys have been raving about those $90 million dollar facial dermabrasion scrubber treatment machines, so off I went to the world's greatest store, Target, to discover my solution.

Legit most of them are like $50+, and I'm not down with that. So when I saw the Neutrogena Wave for a mere $15 I was sold. Refill scrubber pads are about $6 a month if you use it once a day. My kinda price.

image target.com

I've been using le Wave religiously for 2 weeks now. If I'm super honest with you it's been sitting in my cabinet for about 5 months because I'm the perfect combination of lazy and unwilling to admit I have a problem. But nevertheless, I honestly can tell a difference in both the texture of my skin and the size of my pores after consistent use. So far, so good.

Neither Neutrogena or Target know I actually exist (except maybe my photo is up somewhere at Target HQ for being the world's greatest RedCard user?), so this is honest-to-Pete my own review. Sealed with a Kristi!

29 is NOT the new 30.

Newsflash: It's 2012. The year I will turn the dirty thirty. (In related news, everyone on earth is invited to come to Mexico with us for my birthday. Had originally considered Vega$, but then I decided 30 would be much better spent in an all-inclusive resort, drunk at the swim up bar vs. getting arrested in Vega$. Stay tuned for more info on that...and friends, start saving your pennies now!)

As I continue to age gracefully, I've been noticing all these strange things happening around me. Like, for instance, my hair is REALLY getting gray. I've been gray "patchy" since I was 13 (thanks for those genes, Dad), but have mostly gotten away with using Clairol Root Touch Up every couple months or so. But now? Holy hell. I'm about 2 months from becoming Helen Mirren.

Don't see it? Allow me to zoom in for you.

That's 2 weeks of growth. TWO. I'm about to go broke buying root touch up. Should anyone from Clairol be reading this particular rant, I'm wiiiiiiiiide open for sponsorship. Allow me to be your charity case.

Please also note the forehead wrinkles. I can't even discuss those right now.

In summary: I'm considering shaving my head. Or just going all Helen Mirren on you. I think I could rock both.

Six Minutes.

All the time I have to post today, as I'm in a Photoshop training course for work. Very cool stuff, actually. Wish I'd gotten on the bandwagon sooner.

One thing to note: I like old people, really I do. I think it's cute when they hold hands in parking lots and even cuter when they sit next to each other in booths at restaurants and order off the senior menu. However, old people should NOT take advanced computer classes. Let me rephrase that so I don't sound like an old person hater with no soul. Old people that cannot see the 32" widescreen monitor in front of their faces and aren't really sure what a "mouse" is should not take advanced graphic design courses. It's just wrong. And frustrating.

In other news, my instructor looks like a beach bum displaced from the shores of Hawaii and sounds exactly like Jerry Seinfeld. Very, very hard for me to concentrate because all I see is him and Elaine on a surfboard wearing coconut bras and catching wicked waves somewhere in the Pacific.