Don't Forget that Brown Women Wear Makeup Too

As a teenager, I started my love for fashion and beauty magazines. I still remember the joy and anticipation in opening a big fat August issue of Seventeen magazine and circling all of the exciting new fashions for the coming school year. I would get to see what my favorite celebrities were wearing, read try to convince my mom to buy me some of the full outfits that I saw in the "Going off to College" pictorial, and read all about doing a smokey eye and using blush and powder to contour your cheekbones. Except the problem with the magazines is that the makeup tips never quite worked for me, because in the ranges of skin colors they would show the best new makeup shades for, the darkest skin color was always olive. I wrote a letter to the editors of Teen magazine about that once -- I still remember, I signed it as "My skin is not olive" -- and got some form letter back.

A lot of things have changed in the past fifteen or so years, and thankfully, I have a better time now in the pages of Lucky and Allure in finding makeup shades for me. Better, but still not great -- there are still usually about four possible shades for white women and one for brown women, and I always get excited when a brown skinned celebrity is on the cover, because I'm then sure of finding out what great lipstick they used on her. But I really didn't think that there were still makeup companies that don't even make shades for women of color, but even in the world of Michelle Obama, I was wrong.

A few weeks ago, I was looking for a new tinted moisturizer, and was browsing the aisles of Sephora. A skincare line that I've liked a lot in the past, Korres, had a tinted moisturizer with SPF that I had read about and was excited to test. Except when I went to test the shade against my skin, I discovered that their darkest shade was still way too light for my skin color. I said something to the woman helping me at Sephora, and she said that since Korres is a Greek company, they're not used to the range of skin colors in the US. Yeah, she clearly didn't believe it either. I came home and wrote Korres a letter about it; this time I didn't even get a form letter.

What I don't understand about this is that Black and Latino women obviously care about makeup. From Michelle Obama (whose makeup is always flawless, and oh wow, I wish I knew which products she used), to RuPaul and everyone in between, we are all pretty fabulous. We love lipcolors, from muted to in your face, we love doing delightful things with our nails, but mostly, we love makeup just as much as white women do. I'm not sure why magazines and makeup companies continue to ignore this market, but I'm really tired of them assuming that there's only one shade of woman of color, and it's the light shade of either Beyonce or Zoe Saldana or the dark shade of Gabby Sidibe. There are many shades in between (and lighter than Bey/Zoe and darker than Gabby).

I loved the products that I got from you, Korres, but in the future, I will send my makeup and skincare dollars to companies that care about me and people who look like me. Therefore, here is an incomplete list of resources for women (and men!) of color who want to find great makeup:

Bobbi Brown is awesome, and has lots of foundation and powder shades for every range on the skin color wheel (and I totally suspect that Michelle O. wears some of her stuff).
M.A.C has long had lots of great shades for women of many colors, and even though their salespeople are usually bitchy and make you look like a drag queen, their stuff is still awesome.
Stila, the brand that I eventually got my tinted moisturizer from, had a wide range of possible shades, and there were some just slightly lighter than me and just slightly darker than me that I didn't get, because the shade that was my shade was perfect, amazing.
Carol's Daughter, not strictly makeup, but has lots of hair and skincare stuff for women of color.
Iman and Black Opal Beauty are both drugstore brands geared towards women of color (warning, the Iman website plays music. Seriously, Iman?).
This awesome blog, Makeup 4 Black Women, has color ranges, makeup tips, shade reviews, and great tutorials.
Another fun blog, Makeup and Beauty Blog is all about what it says, and is written by a woman of color.

And finally, I give you this fabulous man who has a ton of makeup videos and is hilarious, has good tips, and just all around rocks, and his advice is great for women of all colors.

Please feel free to share your favorite makeup for brown women resources!

Don't Be Afraid of the Gym

(Image from this fantastic post about women and weight training. Go read it. I'll wait.)

Way back in January, when I reminded you not to wear makeup to the gym, I mentioned that there was an entire post that could be written about not being scared of the gym. This is that post.

Disclaimer: I am not a jock. Not even a little bit. I attempted team sports at a few brief junctures in my life - once on a park-run softball team in elementary school, a tiny bit of volleyball in high school (and intramurals in college, which was a total joke) and...that's about it. My lack of hand-eye coordination is still a running joke in my family, and while fifteen years worth of modern dance should have given me some level of agility, I was enough of a klutz that my nickname at camp (orchestra camp - I told you I wasn't a jock) was "Grace." I had to take three gym classes in college - I chose ballet (lots of relaxation), badminton (which I played with my cousins as a kid) and tennis (which I SUCKED at, but had watched my entire life, and since the grade was based solely on attendance and the written final, I aced it - pun intended.) I failed gym my freshman year in high school because I refused to do anything beyond walk around the track and sit on the bleachers with the cute rebel boy who taught me how to smoke and I managed to get gym credits out of doing high school pep band (have I convinced you of my dorkiness yet?). I have mild PTSD related to the ever-popular Presidential Physical Fitness Test - while I rocked the V-sit Reach and the Shuttle Run, the memory of hanging in front of my entire 7th grade gym class, unable to do even one pull up, still gives me nervous butterflies. And let us not even speak of the Mile Run.

I give you this history, so you don't think think that the girl who always looked great in phy ed, never got hit in the face with a volleyball or lost her shoe in kickball, and went jogging on a regular basis even as a teenager is now sitting behind her computer, lecturing you about how fanTAStic it is to work out at the gym. I am not that girl. At all.

In January, I told you all about how I had a gym membership for over two years before I had the nerve to actually run on the treadmill. Besides the fact that I hadn't actually run in the ten years since I'd spent a week on the high school track team (I still can't quite explain why I thought that would be a good idea - maybe it was my dominance at the Shuttle Run), I was terrified of a couple of things. First, I was afraid that I was going to start running and not be able to sustain it for more than a few seconds. Secondly, I was convinced that, since I wouldn't be able to run for very long, I would stumble and fly off the back. That makes an excellent YouTube clip - for everyone else - but it makes for pain, suffering and emotional distress for yours truly. So for over two years, I walked. I walked FAST, mind, but I walked. I walked and I walked and I walked and while walking is good for you, and a great place to start if you haven't been active in a while, after that length of time I got frustrated with myself. Eventually, I ran across the Couch to 5K program, which starts you out with running at 30-second intervals, so I took some deep breaths, and pumped up the speed. And guess what? I didn't fall down. I don't like running today any more than I did then, but I know that I can do it, and that feels fantastic.

What about those weight machines? Those are indimidating, I am not going to argue with you. Adjusting the seats, adjusting the weights, keeping track of your reps...it could all be enough to keep you confined to the safety of the treadmill or elliptical or stationary bike. But here's a hint. Most gyms have a free session with a trainer, who will walk through the machines with you, show you how to adjust them, find the range of motion that works for you, and so on. And if you're really lucky, your gym has Fitlinxx or a similar system, which will count your reps and keep track of the current weight and range of motion for you - because I don't know about you, but when I'm rocking out to whatever terrible music has just popped on my iPod, it is nearly impossible for me to count. If trainers are scary for you, try to remember - this is their job and they are there for you. They want you to be successful, and don't you want to be successful too?

But then there's those fitness classes and the mind-numbing terror of Other People. Yoga, weightlifting, step, Zumba, bellydancing, spin...they all sound awesome in theory, don't they? But it's scary to walk in and see the girls in their fancy Lululemon yoga pants, or getting reading to do belly dance in a sports bra and leggings. Especially if its your first class, it's easy to talk yourself into the thought that everyone else knows what's going on, that you're wearing the wrong thing, that you're taking up too much space or you're going to trip over yourself or - worse - someone else. You know what, though? I'd bet you good money - or, okay, five bucks - that 98% of the people in that class feel the same way and the Lululemon gear is just their version of (fancy) armor. And if they don't feel that way today, they did once.

I've been going to the same Zumba class for almost a year now, so I'm usually pretty relaxed there. I know the instructor, a lot of the steps, the flow of the hour, and some of the other folks in the class with me - if not their names, then definitely their faces. But that doesn't mean that it wasn't completely scary the first time I went, because oh wow, it really was. My husband had to practically shove me into the room. And it was also scary when, after I'd been out for a while with an injury, I found out the instructor had also gotten hurt and had to cut way back on the number of classes she was teaching. So suddenly I went from a Tuesday post-work class to a Friday lunchtime class and that's a whole OTHER set of new people and a whole other routine in my day and you know what? It ended up being even better than the original time. Now, my extra-long Friday lunch is my treat at the end of the week, and if you'd told me a year ago that my end-of-the-week reward would involve sweating, I would have probably called to have you committed.

I know, believe me. Going to the gym can give you totally paralyzing middle school panic. You can convince yourself that everyone in the locker room thinks like this chick, that the skinnier pople are judging you, and on and on. And hey, if you do a class or a free trial someplace that you aren't comfortable? That's fine! Don't go back! But also, don't write it off five minutes after you walk in, and don't let your own set of issues - which we all have - deter you from something that could be really great. Give it a little bit of time and try to get comfortable. Do more than one class, more than one day of circuit training on the machines. You don't have to become best friends with that girl in the sports bra, but don't assume that you know what she's thinking, either. The next time you start to talk yourself out of that amazing-sounding adult ballet class, just stop, think about how everything you love had to be done a first time, and don't miss out.

Don't Decorate Your Private Property

Oh, how I wish this post was about how you shouldn't put Christmas lights around your No Trespassing signs. Sadly, "private property" is a euphemism. For genitalia, in case you hadn't already figured that out. Not that I think you're too stupid to get it; you just might not have had your coffee yet.

Man, two sentences in and I'm already so embarrassed that I'm avoiding the topic. Okay, here we go. There's a new product available called (oh god) My New Pink Button which supposedly "restores the 'pink' back to a woman's genitals." I can't believe I just typed that sentence. I can't believe I'm writing this post. There is so much wrong with this whole situation, I don't even know where to start. So let's go with punctuation. Why is "pink" in quotation marks? When you have to qualify the entire purpose of the product with quotes, it does not inspire confidence in the consumer. Especially when it's something that's meant to be applied to an extremely sensitive area.

Wait, what am I talking about? Like someone who thinks dyeing her labia is a perfectly sensible idea is going to be worried about stray quotation marks. Look, my gut tells me that this is an entirely made up problem; that there aren't actually women out there who expend time and energy worrying about the color of their lady parts. But there are a lot of cosmetic procedures that women pay money for that I originally thought were practical jokes, including toe shortening, calf implants, and injecting the deadliest toxin known to man into their faces. So I'm going to treat this as an actual possibility and say: Don't do it.

To be serious for a moment, if you're embarrassed by the color of your genitalia? I suggest taking the $30 you might be thinking about spending on this product and put it towards a therapist who'll help you feel pretty on the inside.

Okay, I'm done, right? I don't have to write anymore about hoo-hoos? Oh, for goodness' sake. So Jennifer Love Hewitt for some reason decided to tell the world that her brilliant idea for getting over a breakup was to have a friend stick Swarovski crystals around her vagina. Except she didn't say vagina. She said "precious lady," which made me think of a Virgin Mary statue for some reason, which made it even more disturbing when I realized what she was actually talking about. Anyway. Sparkly bits on your girly bits: Don't do that.

There are so many reasons that "vagazzaling," as J. Love calls it, is a terrible idea. What if one gets loose? Think about how annoying it is when you have a pebble in your shoe. And I don't know about you, but at some point I'd get up in the middle of the night to pee, forget I've bedazzled myself, and end up accidentally blinded by the glow coming from my crotch. Then there's the big one: What if you get laid? Do you explain your nether region arts & crafts project or just get naked and risk having your hook up think you have the world's shiniest STD?

I know it's difficult to feel desirable when you've just gone through a break-up, or when advertising says you aren't. But if you start to feel down, just stop those negative thoughts, think about how wonderful you really are, and don't do anything wacky to your vagina.

Don't Settle for a Bad Doctor

So I switched jobs recently, and with that, I had to switch health insurance, and therefore had to get a new doctor (we'll address the nightmarish thing that is United States health care and insurance systems in a separate post, entitled "Don't You See how INSANE This Is?"). Now, I picked two doctors at the same time (my primary care doctor and my OB-GYN) a little randomly, as you do in situations like this -- they were both women of color who were currently taking new patients, so I signed up, since that has been a formula that has worked for me in the past. It worked out great with the OB-GYN: we exchanged friendly emails before I met her, I went in for my appointment and she was nice, asked all the right questions, answered all of mine, and I went home happy.

My primary care doctor was another story. When I first met her, she seemed kind of cold to me, but I thought that maybe I was just grumpy. The second time I met her, she gave me a blank, skeptical look when I described my symptoms, didn't ask me many questions, then turned to her computer and said "You can go" when she was done with me, which made me feel snubbed and uncomfortable. But worse, it made me hesitant to go to the doctor the next time, because I thought she would roll her eyes and scoff at me. Turned out that I had the swine flu. I recovered, thanks for asking after two weeks of feeling horrible, a week of feeling slightly less horrible, and two more weeks of a cough. That taught me a lesson: Don't settle for a bad doctor.

Now, this is not to malign the medical profession. There are lots of fantastic doctors out there, who will listen to you, diagnose you well, and genuinely care about how you're feeling, both physically and mentally. But if you have had the bad luck to get one of the bad ones, or one who isn't bad, but just bad for you, you can and should make a change, and it will make such a difference when you do.

I understand all of the excuses for sticking with a doctor that you don't like, because I used many of them. It's complicated to change, it's a family friend, you already know the way to the office and don't want to switch, you don't want to deal with that conversation about your medical history all over again. But the worst excuse was "Maybe it's all in my head." Don't let that be the excuse to keep you stuck with a doctor that you don't like and feel uncomfortable with, because even if it IS all in your head, that doesn't matter. What matters is that the doctor makes you uncomfortable, and therefore you're not going to be as honest with her, or you're going to avoid making an appointment with him when you need a new prescription, or you're in pain, or get dizzy for no reason, or you feel that lump. No one needs a doctor that makes her feel anxious, ashamed, or violated, and forcing yourself to deal with that is bad for both your physical and mental health.

Finding a new doctor really isn't as scary as it seems, but first, you need to know what you do and don't like in a doctor. I like doctors that are warm, friendly, and ask lots of questions, some people may like doctors who are businesslike and direct; know what you like, and then you can ask around for the doctor that will be the best for you. Also, many doctors say that they're not taking new patients, but they often will if you're a friend or family member of a current patient. Appeal to all of your friends and co-workers for doctors that they have and like, find out if their doctor seems like he's your kind of doctor, and then contact the doctor that sounds the best directly to say that your friend loves him, and can you please switch to his practice.

It is definitely more complicated in some situations -- you live in a small town and there are few doctors, or you don't have health insurance and so go to a clinic, or this is the only doctor in your area that treats your special condition. Even then, though, do what you can: go to one of the few other doctors when your doctor is on vacation to test them out and see if you can switch, take down the names of the doctors that you do and don't like at the clinic, and find out when the doctors work so that you can try to only go on the good doctor days and times, ask for second opinions. Not everyone is going to get a doctor that delights you, or makes you want to dance around in your underwear, but it is very possible to find a doctor that treats you well, and isn't that the goal?

My story ends happily: after going to my bad doctor at the beginning of the swine flu (where she tested me for strep, sent me away, and then sent me a snippy email telling me that I didn't have strep but nothing else), I ended up at urgent care later on that week, and saw a doctor that I immediately liked a million times better than mine. She asked questions, seemed concerned, gave me prescriptions and advice, and you know what? I completely listened to her advice, because I liked and respected her, and did just what she told me. I called the next week to see if I could switch to her as my primary care doctor, and it was as easy as that (even though her website said that she wasn't accepting new patients). This week I went in to see her, and she was asking me lots of those first visit questions, and then said "I'm sorry, I'm asking so many questions!" I said, with a big smile "That's okay, I like a doctor who asks a lot of questions."

So next time you think to yourself that you can settle for a bad doctor, and you should just get over it that your doctor didn't call you back when you called in a panic post surgery (this happened to me), or blamed you for your late term miscarriage (this happened to a friend of mine), or just makes you feel rushed and anxious, just stop, think about how your doctor should help to heal you, not damage you more, and don't settle.

Don't Wear Makeup To The Gym

(Image via http://www.fabsugar.co.uk/)

You guys, it's January! And with January comes the promise of a whole new year - mountains to climb, people to kiss, jobs and bad habits to quit, and weight to lose. Brownie's already covered our lack of interest in the boring details of your new diet, but what about your super-great new workout plan and your new membership at The Greatest Gym On Earth and your adorable new workout outfits and HOW CUTE are these new running shoes? Chances are, that will bore us too, but if you're dying to tell us, go for it. We'll tell you to shut it if it's necessary. (However, I'm the girl who's obsessed with Women's Health, so I just might actually be interested. Plus, cute anything usually gets my attention.) Because what I'm really here to discuss is very simple: Don't wear makeup to the gym.

We know. Gyms can be intimidating. There's a whole other post that could be written on just that subject. I, for one, had a gym membership for over two years before I had the nerve to actually run on the treadmill. (The fear of flying dramatically off the back of the thing was greater than the fear of not being able to wear my favorite jeans, it would seem.) And catching sight of yourself in the giant mirrors, whether it's in a class or while you're on a weight machine, can be a bit of an eye-opener. Yes, that is actually you, with the tomato-red face ("post-workout glow," my ass) and the crazy flyaways, sweating through your old drinking-related college t-shirt that, frankly, is probably fooling no one about your age. Plus, so many gyms right now are total meat markets, which can just up the intimidation factor. It's easy to talk yourself into the idea that everyone will be thinner, hotter, and more in shape than you are and that it is therefore necessary for you to compensate for what you perceive to be your flaws.

(We're all smart enough to stay away from these places, right? Just making sure.)

But. When you show up at the gym with a full face of makeup, perfect hair, and (oh my god, please don't, unless you're a Williams sister) major jewelry, it tells everyone else two things. One, you're here to be seen more than you're here to work out. And two, you're probably brand-new to the gym and the rest of us figure we won't see you post-Groundhog Day.

Now, I go the gym either at lunch or after work, and I generally put some makeup on in the morning, because it's just scary if I don't. I'm not harrassing you to scrub your face before sweating out last night's Happy Hour. But it really isn't necessary to get to the gym, change your clothes, and then stand at the mirror and apply eyeliner and lipgloss, before brushing your hair into the perkiest ponytail you can manage, thanks to tips from Glamour. (Eight ways to wear it? Really? It's a ponytail, not rocket science.) I know you want to look your best - which is why you're at the gym in the first place - and I know you want to make a good impression, but I promise. No one cares. We're all jamming out to our music that would be shameful and embarrassing in any other context, concentrating on lifting heavy things and not dropping them on our toes, and praying that this will be another successful day without falling off the treadmill. We know that it's exciting to have new goals and resolutions and we definitely know how fun it is to have new workout clothes, but we also know how silly you look when your face is rivaling that of the amazing Nina Flowers.

So rock on with the cardio, kick ass at the weight training, breathe deep and get flexible in yoga, and dance your ass off in Zumba. But do it as you. Not who you think you should be, not who you think the boys (or girls) want to see, not to compete with other people, and not to try out your new lip liner (hint: it won't be there in an hour). You're at the gym because you want to feel better and, yes, look better, but putting on powder before hitting the pool (seriously, I've seen this happen) is not going to help your case. Please, just stop at your locker, think about how silly it is to sweat through expensive makeup, and don't reapply.

Don't tell the world about your new diet

It's January 13th. Your new year's resolution was to eat well/exercise more/lose weight. You've been eating lots of kale and quinoa, grilling chicken breasts and having them with spinach and brown rice, and your feet hurt from breaking in those new running shoes. It's all very exciting right now, we know, but please don't tell the world about your new diet. Because you know what? The world doesn't care.

"No, no, but it is important for everyone to know!" you say to me. No. No it's not. We don't care that you're not eating carbs anymore, we don't care that you cut out gluten, we don't care that you're one of the many eating like a caveman (really, people? like a caveman???), we don't care that you're a raw foodist. We really don't care that you're doing the Master Cleanse (enjoy that cayenne pepper/lemon juice/maple syrup drink existence!), or the Cabbage Soup diet (your apartment is going to smell fantastic). We don't care that your special diet is going to clear up our skin, or get rid of our headaches, or make our hair grow.

We want you to stop talking about the obesity epidemic, or how Americans really eat too much protein, or too much salt, or too much processed food. We know that Michael Pollan has 64 rules for eating and you're following every one, you just don't need to list them all for us (we all already read The Omnivore's Dilemma, we got it). Stop telling us how many "points" you've eaten so far today, and really stop telling us many points are in this latte, or this tangerine, or this cupcake that I'm lovingly about to eat. Stop looking at my lunch hungrily, and then proceed to explain to me how horrible refined flour is for you.

Most of all, please spare us when you have the "I broke my diet!" panic because you had a few french fries from someone else's plate at lunch, or a cookie that someone brought into the office. Don't lament to us that you exercised only four times this week instead of six and your trainer is going to KILL you. We're just going to roll our eyes at you for spoiling the deliciousness that is a nice cookie with guilt, and wonder how quickly we can disengage ourselves from that conversation. Because do you know what all of that talk is? Boring, that's what it is.

Don't get me wrong, I love food, and I love talking about food. For part of your diet, did you find a great new recipe for roasted brussels sprouts? Please share, I'm all ears! (This is mine, though some bacon tossed in there is always excellent, and lemon juice makes a nice change from the vinegar). Did you discover a bakery that makes an amazing multi-grain bread? Lead me to it. Did you find the vendor at the farmer's market who has the very best grapefruits? I'd love it if you shared your secret! Did you find a fantastic new yoga class that makes you sweat and feel relaxed? Tell me all about it. Those things are all interesting! But a long discourse about your diet, and lists of things that you can't do and that you can't eat interest no one but yourself. So please, when you're opening your mouth to tell me that actually, celery has negative calories, just stop, think about how boring that is, and don't.