6 Can-They-Please-Catch-On Beauty Trends

I am a lover of all things beauty related.
I have rewards accounts at both Ulta and Sephora that I monitor more stringently than my credit card balance; I have tried every new mascara that has ever been on the market; my hair routine for a night out is the stuff of legends; and I own six different kinds of makeup primer.

Once while getting ready, an old boyfriend started criticizing my lengthy beauty regimen and went so far as to add a soundtrack to the experience by playing "Waitin' on a Woman" by Brad Paisley on repeat until I was finished. The fact that I witnessed him receiving high fives from strangers later that night aside (HUMBLE BRAG YOU'RE WELCOME), he may have had a point.

This could all be avoided if the beauty industry would ease up on the expectations and complicated routines. Did you know you're supposed to layer up to six different skincare products to achieve maximum facial perfection, AND that you should wait three to five minutes between each product? I love my medicine cabinet of potions but I am nowhere near that diligent.

The following are the 6 beauty trends that I wish would catch on for the sake of my schedule, my wallet, and my love life. Or maybe just the first two; a dude who wears Crocs should never have a definitive opinion on the way you do your thang.

1. GROWN-bré - My hair is naturally medium brown but I get it highlighted because Barbie was always cooler than her brunette friend Midge. Unfortunately, hair does this hilarious bit where it grows (in my case, rapidly) and my roots constantly reveal my secret too soon. Spending over $100 every six to eight weeks to keep up with my mane just isn't happening, so I propose we embrace GROWN-bré, where I completely abandon the upkeep of my highlights and everyone compliments me on my roots while admiring my laziness/cheapness. It's like when girls intentionally dye their hair ombré, except more poor.

 

2. Callouses? More like CUTESES! - My feet are absolutely disgusting and I'm weirdly proud of it. My pride and joy are my callouses, which are so thick from dance, running, and wearing absurdly sexy shoes that I could probably stick a needle half an inch into them before I started to feel anything (you're welcome for that visual). The ladies at the nail salon like to make a show out of pumicing these babies down when I get a pedicure, but why even bother? Smooth feet may be sexy feet but I'd much rather be the badass walking on broken glass without flinching.

Problem solved!

3. Cough "Negative Space Manicure" Cough - AKA let me wear my chipped nail polish in peace. Do I love how my nails look when they're perfectly painted and shiny? Yes. Do I use my hands way too much to keep them that way for longer than 12 hours? Nailed it (ba dum chh). Negative space manicures were a huge trend at Fashion Week and were dubbed the "cutout dress of the nail world," so by comparison I guess letting your mani completely go to shit could be considered the "ripped up skirt from sitting on the corner of U Street crying into the phone at your Uber driver Jesus Skylar get it together...of the nail world." Style is forever, you guys.


Just keepin' up with the trends

4. Uneven Eyeliner Wings - This would change my outlook on life 110%. Why can't one extend a little further than the other? Why can't they be of varying thicknesses? Is it crucial that they both aim a little past the tip of my eyebrow? Did Twiggy realize the amount of stress she was putting on me when she spearheaded this trend in the 60s? It's too much. It is too. much.



5. Legitimate Bedhead - There's "I literally rolled out of bed and didn't even bother to glance at a hairbrush before I came here" bedhead, and then there's "I woke up two hours ago and used salt spray, root lifter, volumizing powder, and mousse along with a diffuser to look this nonchalant" bedhead. The former is reminiscent of homeless chic and causes friends to plan interventions, while the latter is a complete oxymoron. People who claim they achieve their look by doing the former are liars and can Derelick my balls, capítan.

6. Designer Dark Circles - I'm tired, you're tired, we're all fucking tired, and I don't feel like faking being alert by pressing cold spoons on my eyes and caking on the concealer. Let's just accept that I look like a zombie, make our crack whore comparisons, and get on with our day. Standing in the makeup aisle analyzing plastic skin tone samples against my jawbone (or is it wrist?) to determine the most convincing shade for me is not only impossible but a serious waste of time, one that could probably afford me the extra twenty minutes of sleep I need to avoid dark circles in the first place.

NO ONE IS SAFE

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With a Sense of Fear and Irrationalitaaaay

I got my hair cut last week. Considering the obscene amount of hair I have and the fact that my desire to be pretty is consistently beaten out by my desire to stay in my comforter cocoon for-ev-ver, I ask for lots of layers so the lion's mane essentially styles itself. To do this, stylists use a razor comb, which thins out the ends of your hair as they brush it through. An effective tool? Yes. Source of debilitating fear? Oh. My God.

Sadists.

Paranoid seems like such a dirty term; I prefer "cautiously attentive." When the perfectly capable and steady-handed Irena brought the razor comb towards my precious head, all I could imagine was her slipping on a stray squirt of mousse and skinning me like a prize buck (is that the correct simile? I don't hunt). There is so much that could go wrong there. I held my breath for the better part of the experience and obsessively stroked the back of my head when she was done to see if I could feel any strategic cover-ups of a now-bare scalp. Irena spared me. This time.

I realize that this is completely ridiculous and a huge waste of energy, but I can't help it; there are some things out there that will always terrify me for no reason. Actually, there are lots of them. I should be committed.

Whoa, you win.

Getting a pedicure, the nail technician will rip my big toe off - Nearly fifteen years of dance left me with manly calves and disgusting feet. Bunions, calluses, weird toenails -- I gave up my dream of being a flip-flop model many years ago. Does that mean I'll stop forcing a sweet, innocent lady to tend to my toes with a pumice stone and a prayer? Nevaaa. I have a lot of weird habits that arise when I get my toes done (giggle fits, restless leg syndrome, etc.), but as soon as I see the technician break out the toe separators I completely freak out. One of these days, she will definitely shove that thing in there too hard and completely crack my bunion in half, alleviating the need for the surgery my mother so desperately wants me to get but also guaranteeing that I'll chop both of my feet off to prevent this from ever happening again.

Water fountain backwash - When I was in third grade, someone told me that when you turned on a water fountain, the leftover water from the previous user was saved up and was the first bit of water that came out on the next use. So basically, if you didn't let the water fountain run for a few seconds before you started drinking, you just drank water from the mouth of Frank Farter. Between my youthful gullibility and the fact that a kid could rightfully earn himself the nickname Frank Farter, I hardly ever use water fountains these days. 

Stranger hiding in the house - I really shouldn't live in a multi-level house. I can't handle the possibilities. When I was little (...and also to this day...), I was convinced that a family lived in the crawlspace in our basement. They didn't do anything bad, per se, but they were there and probably judged harshly when I broke something on the computer that caused it to function improperly for the next 10 years (Hey family! Five year secret!). This delusion was amplified when I saw an episode of CSI where the killer hid out in his victims' attics and drove them crazy to the point of committing suicide. CSI is real, so you can imagine how this affected me. No matter where I am, if there is an air vent above me I am 99% positive there is a psycho staring right back at me, plotting his next move. And now you are too.

Burning off my eyebrows - I don't smoke, so that alone has cut my need to own and/or know how to operate a BIC lighter in half. The other half has been taken care of thanks to, of all things, America's Funniest Home Videos. Clip upon clip is shown of people lighting candles on a cake, with the audience howling with laughter when the lighter all of a sudden flares up and poor little Suzie gets a Barbie and a lack of expression for her birthday. People are always losing their eyebrows! Why is no one else worried about this?! I can usually keep my cool in these situations, but you'll notice I'm usually standing at least eight feet away from the fire starter with brow corrector in hand.

Getting T-boned at an intersection - First of all, this has actually happened to me, so maybe it's not so irrational after all. In that incident, the car was totalled but the driver and I weren't seriously injured slash dead so in my mind it was just a practice run by God. Any time I pass through an intersection, with a bright green light and everyone else using blinkers and abiding by every driving law in the book, I still tense up to prepare for impact. I'm just convinced that someone's brake will spontaneously combust and they'll come flying straight at me. Most of the time, when approaching the intersection, I'll instruct the drivers around me (aka scream), "STAY THERE. EVERYONE BE COOL. MAKE GOOD DECISIONS," until I've safely made it through. Long story short my friends don't ask me to drive anymore.

From this list, you can infer that I've never seen any of the Final Destination movies, because I would never leave my house for the rest of my life. I swear I'm normal in most other aspects, but you can never be too careful. Or on too much Xanax.

 

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