Nine months on, nine months off, they say. But once you have managed to shift those extra pounds after having your dear little one—what are you left with? Well, in my case, the tummy of an old woman. Sad face. I was so pleased to have hit my target on the scales but I wasn’t banking on bizarre, stubborn fat pockets, and wrinkles that would make a prune look smooth! Having swathed my ever-increasing bump with oils, lotions, and potions for nine months, I have to say that I have managed to emerge with very fine and almost invisible stretch marks, which is great—can’t complain. However, Spanx® and dollop of Xen-Tan aside, I need to solve the wrinkly pouch situation and in my quest fo
Photo Credit: ibizatansalon.com
After a cruel winter, certainly in New York, my mind has turned to faux tans. Let me talk you through a Grimm tale of—paid for—tanning at Beach Bum Tanning in Chelsea, New York. I went with my friend Kathleen and after waiting half an hour, I was up first. In the room, I asked for some wipes to take off my deodorant and makeup. The tanning lady looked at me like I was speaking in a dialect from Lapland. There were no wipes. Apparently no-one ever comes with makeup or deodorant, something I can safely dispute with Kathleen sitting outside with makeup and, as she—thankfully—confirmed later, deodorant.
I knew the tan wouldn’t go on properly on top of makeup. In fact, the tanner a