Life Hack Lies
I didn’t eat lunch today…I worked and I drove through traffic, thankful for the quiet time. I know I’m not the only one out there, but the world’s been beating on me a tad bit more than I’d like. The bad news, I have to replace a sewer pipe and it could cost up to $1,500. The good news, my tax check should cover it.
When I do take a break and hop on social media, I’ve been bombarded with “self-care” articles and videos. Facebook telepathically knew I was having a rough time of it and stated, “We have the secrets to how you can be happy, just sign up for the website, only $40 a year for a subscription. Or, I could sign up for a $4,000 retreat to de-stress?”
DO YOU THINK IF I HAD $4,000 SITTING AROUND I WOULD BE STRESSED, FACEBOOK!!!??? YOU KNOW NOTHING MARK ZUCKERBERG…but you really know everything Mark.
(Whoever said money can’t buy happiness obviously never purchased a Golden Girls coloring book, or a 60-minute massage).
Today was the last straw. An ad for Goop showed up in my feed. For those of you who don’t know, Goop…Goob…Goo…Go…Goshityourself, is the company Gwyneth Paltrow (not spell checking her name because she doesn’t deserve that kind of time from me) founded. The brand is touted as a Lifestyle guru platform, that also has products for sale like edible face treatments. Basically, It’s for rich white ladies, neither of which I am.
Let’s go on a journey, a journey of discovery about how ridiculous this world is.
Look, I feel slightly guilty about badmouthing the brand initially, because women should support women. That is until I went to the site.
You guys…there is a “crystal-infused” home/room/self/anything mist spray in a bottle for sale on the site. Frankly, I’m surprised they didn’t throw the term vagina spray in there somewhere. Paltrow is a proponent for steaming one’s vagina… not even gonna’ touch this one because WE DO NOT HAVE ENOUGH TIME.
A contributor on the site, who is the “try gal” of the brand, wrote an article about her experience with the spray. She was irritated one day, as she leisurely drank her green tea, because her couch smelled like dog. Apparently a dog occasionally comes to her house and sits on her probably white couch and makes it smell like…well dog, cause it’s a friggin’ dog. She said once the dog left, she sprayed the mist on her couch, and the oils in the concoction schlepped up the dog smell and then her home smelled glorious and it didn’t smell of dog anymore.
Please know that I am screaming this next fact as I sit here…The 16oz. bottle is $45 DOLLARS. If I were in isolation, there’s no doubt I would black out from said screaming.
Goop put oil, and literal quartz crystals in the bottle, and slapped on a $45 price tag for Febreeze.
I’ve discovered the culprit of my funk lately. I have felt like I couldn’t keep up with everything I needed to accomplish, but that to-do list wasn’t real. Those obligations came from outside of myself.
Social media at it again, ruining lives. I have let the ideal of what I SHOULD be doing influence what my life is.
The following is my imagined example of what a day would look like if I followed all the self-care, wellness, vitality tips, routines, habits, hacks, and advice thrown my way by people who don’t have actual real jobs.
I wake up at 5:00am, rested. Why 5:00am, you ask. Word has it, not a single successful person on the planet gets up after 5:00am, otherwise their winner cells will start to erode and will be replaced by loser cells.
I roll around in my 5,762 thread count sheets from Egypt. A marathon runner who is raising money for kids with cancer transported these sheets to America on his back. By purchasing these $500 sheet sets, I’m supporting kids with cancer! I spend twenty minutes mentally listing things I’m grateful for. Gratitude is apparently the cure-all for everything. Better than coconut.
Look, wellness involves giving away what little money you have and posting about it online because telling everyone how much you support charities is the only way others will know you’re a good person. Bonus points if you film yourself giving homeless people food or money. This totally gives you a free pass to be a dickwad to the ladies that give you your pedicure. You can guilt-freely take photos of your dumb toes as a woman literally kneels at your feet. I bet they totally don’t mind getting their photos taken while filing off your corns.
I will get out of bed, dress in my cushy robe made from organic cotton only picked by minimum security Wall street prisoners serving time for tax fraud, and then I will go to the bathroom. I will do a splasharoo, using feminine wash, because ads for it has stalked me for years, convincing me that I needed it’s flower scent. I will wash my face with $65 face wash that spends less than 90 seconds on my actual face. I will then put on a face sheet mask for 20 minutes, while I also put a hot oil treatment on my hair for split ends. I will brush my teeth with black charcoal powder to whiten them, sneeze, get it all over the mirror and spend 15 minutes using a silver infused washcloth (it kills bacteria) to clean my mirror with vinegar because CHEMICALS CHANGE YOUR DNA!!!
I will then get in the shower and wash allls the things out of my hair and off of my skin, by dumping more oil and a bag of sugar on my thighs, you know…to get rid of the cellulite. Bonus points for massaging old coffee grinds onto your ass cheeks, it helps make the dimples go away. God forbid my shampoo has parabens, sulfates, alcohol, or atoms in it, because those strip the flesh off and boomerang you into another dimension.
By the time I get out of the shower, it is two hours later, 7:00am. I make my way into the kitchen to make coffee. I only drink free trade coffee, produced by plantations where the bats are fed coffee beans, they are massaged, and their poop harvested. My coffee creamer is coconut based, but only made from coconuts that accidently fell out of trees, not purposely cut down.
I then make a smoothie containing mangoes, spinach, carrots, strawberries, frozen bananas, ginger, pineapple, and snozberries. I have also added cacao powder, protein powder, spirulina…or was is spinderella powder, along with a dash of nutritional yeast. The yeast is supposed to take the place of/and taste like cheese for vegans, and apparently because I’m American, I’m supposed to be obsessed with cheese and will crave it eventually anyways, so why not add it to my smoothie.
My smoothie is 84 ounces of nutrition with a side of resentment.
I down the green pulp, and then leash up my dog that I rescued from coal mines in China, so we can go on our daily walk. It’s 10:00am by this time. I drive 35 minutes to get into the forest because studies show that spending time among trees is good for the soul and cholesterol. I wear noise-cancelling headphones because it’s reported that noise causes stress hormones and who needs to hear the birds anyways. Half way into the hike, I take the headphone off and touch the trees. I make sure to listen to the branches, as they…bark at me.
After the walk, I drive my Prius home. It’s 11:00am. I answer emails while sitting on the toilet. I make sure to use my Squatty Potty stool because it cuts at least 60 seconds off my bowel movement and it’s better for the colon. I use biodegradable toilet paper, but I use twice as much soap to wash my hands because there’s been a breech in wipage. It’s ok though, the soap is made from ash from some volcano in Africa so it supports women entrepreneurs.
It’s lunch time, 12:00pm.
I open the refrigerator, and stare at fried chicken that the boyfriend left. I decide that sticking twigs into a piece of brown bread that tastes like cardboard is a better base for a meal. I add some red peppers that have been pureed, along with tuna that has been raised in Fiji, the fish have been schooled in the art of tidying up a sock drawer.
By this point I have had 42 glasses of water.
It is 1:00pm. I have to get changed for my next venture. I am required to wear leggings, but not just any Walmart leggings, they much cost $70, and they must be shear to the point that you can see when I last had a waxing appointment.
I now must attend my yoga class. I will breathe a lot, hold in a bunch of farts, and end up in a headstand. After yoga, I meditate for 20 minutes. Meditation is known to lower blood pressure and it makes you give less craps about things.
I go to the animal shelter and play with kittens. Their purring is reported as having a healing affect on joint pain, I hold the kittens firmly against my knees against their wishes. Only two of them scratch me.
I stop by the grocery store on the way home to stock up on fresh produce for tomorrow’s dinner. It is a co-op where everything is locally sourced. I am disappointed that sprouts are not in season and buy chocolate covered bacon instead. The pigs used have sacrificed themselves because they’re the ones with mud allergies, so they wanted to go anyways.
I am back home. It’s 5pm, and time for me to read the next selection in Oprah’s book club. AS IT IS WRITTEN, you must read Oprah’s book selection to get into heaven.
Then, it’s time for more affirmations. I light lavender candles, spray my $45 room spray and settle into my $150 couch cushions and say, “I am the greatest person on the planet, I can accomplish anything, winners never quit, and quitters never win, cake tastes better than skinny feels, I will become the Queen of the Galapagos. I am a Labrador.” That my friends, is the law of attraction, aka, stuff that randomly happens, and I try to find meaning within the fluke.
It is now 7:00pm. I am tired so I need a refreshment. I drink five more glasses of water infused with mint and spoiling cucumbers.
I now make phone calls to friends that I’ve intended on seeing, but haven’t gotten around to hanging out with. The phone conversations are more apologies for NOT making it, rather than, “This is what’s happening.” There are a lot of sorries, then promises of “Rain Checks.” Sidenote: there is a better chance of me paying off my American Express card, than actually connecting with my high school friend who I love dearly. I am too busy conducting self-love rituals.
It’s now 8:00pm and I have to call my mother. That is a 60 second phone conversation. At 8:01pm, I’m supposed to make dinner. I am behind in practical life things.
I forgot to go to work.