The Girl Playbook · Vol. 7 · Skin
Remember when you could open the front door to a delivery person with a bare face and no worry about your skin?
Vol. 7 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
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You were standing in the kitchen on a Tuesday morning telling the dog about your plans for the day, with no foundation on, when you heard brakes squeal at the end of the block.
The toast had just popped, the radio was on low, and the porch light was still burning from the night before.
You reached the knob in 4 steps, past the hall mirror without a single sideways look at your cheeks, with your coffee still in the other hand.
There was a time when pajama pants with little coffee cups on them, an old 5K tee and a bare face under hair pointing in 3 directions were the entire outfit.
Your face still had the pillow crease on one cheek and a pink spot on your chin, and the concealer was in a drawer you hadn’t opened since Sunday, under the spare batteries and a roll of tape.
The driver held out the little screen, you signed it with your finger, and “have a good one” went both ways, with the morning sun full on your face.
Remember when someone held a camera up close in bright daylight and you let it catch your bare face, chin and all, with no filter and no concealer?
At your uncle’s barbecue somebody yelled “everybody in,” and you slid into the front row between your mother and the potted geranium, right where a close-up would catch everything.
Your aunt took 5 pictures and your uncle blinked in all of them, and you leaned over her shoulder to see your face on the little screen and said “send me that one.”
Parked outside your friend’s house, you held the phone out past the steering wheel, and the first shot went up exactly as it came out, every pore and freckle in plain view.
You didn’t have to hold back your laugh, cover your chin with your hand or tilt your head away from the light.
Back then, the visor mirror stayed flipped up from May to September, and its little light burned out sometime in the spring without you ever noticing.
The trunk held a jug of windshield fluid and a beach chair, with no emergency bag of concealer and touch-ups riding along in case your skin acted up.
Remember when you stood close to people and never wondered if they noticed the breakout on your chin, the redness on your cheeks or the marks a breakout leaves behind?
You used to say YES…
Yes - to the pool party, in a swimsuit with nothing tied over it…
Yes - to the sleeveless dress at the June wedding, with no shawl on the back of your chair…
Yes - to the close-up your friend took across the patio table…
Yes - to the 9am meeting in the glass room under the brightest lights in the building…
Yes - to a ponytail on a muggy August morning, with the back of your neck out in the open…
Yes - to a cheek-to-cheek hug that lasted as long as you wanted…
It used to be…
You could wash your face and go.
You could feel completely spontaneous.
You could feel completely confident.
You could feel like yourself… bare-faced… easy… out the door in short sleeves with your chin up.
You didn’t have to check for new bumps with your fingertips before you’d even looked in the mirror…
…or reach for makeup before you opened the door.
You didn’t have to take another photo of your chin, zoom in and compare it with yesterday’s.
You never had to scrub the same spot until it was lobster red.
Getting dressed didn’t start with what an outfit hides.
You weren’t the woman wearing tights in July…
…or putting the cute top back because it showed too much back or chest.
You never had to put foundation on your arms and set it with finishing powder just to wear short sleeves.
The patch on your arm, the dark underarm and the redness across your cheeks weren’t part of the morning.
You didn’t have to ask for the lights off or get dressed in the dark.
Putting your hair up or wearing a swimsuit didn’t take any overthinking.
And the swimsuit didn’t stay in the drawer.
You didn’t have to wonder whether this was just your life now.
And these days all you ever hear is, “This worked for me.”
The before-and-after photos have the close-up and the dramatic difference…
But they don’t tell you whether the thing you’re looking at on YOUR skin belongs in the same category.
Because 2 women can point to what looks like the same problem… and be asking 2 very different questions.
So what if the first step is a way to sort your concern before you choose what goes on it?
What if “acne scar” isn’t telling you enough?
Inside Skin, Head to Toe, Skin’s Four Boxes gives you a place to begin…
…and one of those boxes offers something the beauty aisle rarely does, a reason to leave the next bottle right where it is.
If the bathroom cabinet is filling up faster than your questions are getting answered, then this new book is a MUST read before you buy the next thing for your skin…
Before the next before-and-after photo puts another bottle in your cart at 11pm…
Before you switch products again after 2 weeks, until it’s hard to tell what helped or hurt…
Before you treat that dark patch as something you haven’t cleaned well enough…
Remember when washing your face was just washing your face…
A bar of soap, a splash of warm water and a towel off the hook, and you were done before the coffee finished dripping.
The bathroom counter held a toothbrush, a bar of soap and a little fern in a mug, and no row of serums waiting their turn.
Back then nothing was holding you back…
…no hand drifting up to cover your chin…
…and you were in the group photo, front row, bare-faced and laughing, so you never felt left out of the best part of the night…
In those days you never had to check where the brightest light in a room fell before you chose your seat.
Never had to pull a cardigan over a sleeveless dress on a 94-degree day.
Never had to slip off to the restroom mirror to blot and dab before dessert.
You could sit at the kitchen table on a Sunday morning in a robe and a bare face while your partner leaned across the crossword and kissed your chin, spot and all, and you kept right on filling in a 7-letter word.
A printed educational guide, not personal medical advice. Use its explanations and worksheets to prepare informed questions for a qualified health professional.
Skin, Head to Toe
Vol. 7 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
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It’s strange how a life can get smaller without anyone meaning for it to.
And perhaps the saddest part is how easily you can get used to it.
You make your adjustments.
You find your excuses.
You tell yourself it’s only skin.
But it does matter.
The swimsuit at the pool party matters.
The pictures matter.
The afternoons you spend in a sleeveless top in the sun, just because it feels good, matter.
And somewhere along the way, perhaps you’ve forgotten that you matter just as much.
When was the last time you went to the grocery store at 9am with your face just as it came out of the shower?
The list was on the back of an envelope, and it said eggs, coffee, limes and dog biscuits.
The automatic doors opened with a sigh, the air smelled like oranges and floor wax, and the bright store lights landed on your face, shine and all.
The cashier was an older woman with reading glasses on a chain and a name tag that said Pat, and her own smile lines crinkled right along with yours.
You said you’d been in the garden, and she said her tomatoes were coming in, and neither of you mentioned the sun on your cheeks or the dirt on your nose.
Picture a pool party in a swimsuit with nothing over it.
The house had a kidney-shaped pool, a plastic flamingo floating in the deep end and paper lanterns strung along the fence.
You dropped your towel on a lounge chair beside the snack table, in bright sun, and reached across for the grapes with your upper arm in plain view.
A woman you’d never met asked where you got your sunglasses, her eyes on the frames and nowhere else.
When the burgers were ready, you carried your plate to the picnic table in your suit and sat down with your bare thighs on the warm wood, stretch marks and all, and tucked one foot up under you until you were dry.
Remember when the company photographer set up in the break room and you took the stool first?
The break room had a gray backdrop on a stand and a big umbrella light, the kind that shows every pore.
A line had formed along the wall, mostly people tugging at their collars and fixing their hair in a pocket mirror, while you fixed nothing.
You hooked your heel on the footrest and sat easy, forehead a little bright under the lights, and looked straight into the lens.
The photographer took 3 frames, no retakes, and you went back to your desk without asking to peek at the screen.
Do you miss fastening a necklace without a second thought?
It was a thin gold chain with a small pearl that you’d owned since your twenties, and it sat against your neck with no skin tag to tug the chain over.
The clasp took 2 tries, the way it always did, and then your hand was already reaching for a bracelet.
You put on red lipstick in the crooked hallway mirror in a single pass and pressed your lips together to set it, with nothing on underneath.
Your friend honked from the curb, and you called “coming” and grabbed your clutch without a last look at your forehead.
A neighbor watering her ferns on the stoop called out that your skin looked nice, and you called back “thank you” over your shoulder without touching your cheek.
Skin, Head to Toe
Vol. 7 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
- Free shipping
- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
30-day, no-questions-asked money-back guarantee
Think back to drop-off on a bright school morning.
The line of cars crawled toward the front doors, and a crossing guard in an orange vest waved you forward, and the glare through the windshield lit up your cheeks.
You rolled the window down, and the other mom leaned in close with her own travel mug and her own bedhead and asked about Saturday.
You talked for 3 car lengths, your face right there in the morning sun, up close and unretouched.
A horn tapped behind you, so you waved a hand out the window and rolled forward with the sun warm on your skin.
There was a time when you wore the bikini at 45 and walked the length of the deck.
It was a navy one you’d bought on a whim in the spring, without trying it on under a dressing room light.
The deck was warm and rough underfoot, with a wet stripe where the kids had run, and you crossed it in full sun with your stomach out and your chin level.
The teenager in the lifeguard chair gave you a polite nod, the way anyone nods to a neighbor.
Your friend whistled, and you walked the last stretch like a runway.
When the whistle blew for adult swim, you were the first one in, with no wrap to drop and no makeup to float off.
You used to pick up FaceTime with wet hair, a mug and no filter.
The phone buzzed on the counter between a lemon and a half-open bag of coffee, and you answered on the first ring.
Your friend’s face filled the screen at a funny angle with a ceiling fan spinning behind her head, and you could see every pore, and you loved all of it.
She was in the middle of a sentence and you were in the middle of a bite of toast, and neither of you apologized for the pillow creases on your faces.
You talked until the mug was empty, chin in your hand and your cheek squished flat, and when the call ended she blew a kiss and you blew one back.
Skin, Head to Toe
Vol. 7 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
- Free shipping
- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
30-day, no-questions-asked money-back guarantee
Back then, a glass of red at dinner was just a glass of red.
The table was a long one in the back of the Greek place, with candles in jars and a basket of bread that kept getting refilled.
The wine tasted of cherries and a little bit of pepper, and the second glass came with no trip to the restroom mirror.
Your friend across the table was telling a story about her brother-in-law and a boat, and you laughed at the part with the boat and held your glass out for a toast.
Your cheeks stayed exactly the color they were, and 3 hands met over the last slice of bread before yours won.
Wouldn’t it be nice to carry 4 swimsuits into the fitting room and come out happy?
It was a Saturday in May, and the fitting room had a bench, a hook, a curtain that never quite closed and a mirror that showed every freckle.
Your sister waited outside on the little velvet stool with a bag of kettle corn.
You turned around once under the harsh bulb, the backs of your thighs in full view, and only thought about the color.
The navy one with the ruching won, and you wore it out of the store under your sundress with the tags tucked in.
Remember when your partner came up behind you at the sink and rubbed your bare shoulders?
The dishes were piled in the sink from a dinner with the neighbors, the water was running hot, and the steam had fogged the window.
Your partner’s hands were warm from the dish towel, and your shoulders didn’t tense up or pull away.
The radio was playing something slow, and you swayed to it in your sleeveless top while a wet plate squeaked in your hand.
Your head tipped back until it met a collarbone, and your hands, pink from the hot water, were the only thing red on you.
Skin, Head to Toe
Vol. 7 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
- Free shipping
- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
30-day, no-questions-asked money-back guarantee
Think of the reunion where an old friend held you at arm’s length to look at you.
The banner over the stage hung a little crooked, the room smelled like coffee and sheet cake, and the hall lights were as bright as an operating room.
She was by the buffet in a red cardigan, and she looked up at the same moment you did, and the 2 of you were already walking.
She held you out by the elbows, looked at your face up close for a long second and said you hadn’t changed a bit.
Later a circle formed around the yearbooks, and your teenage face looked up from page 40, breakouts and all, and you laughed louder than anyone.
It used to be easy to raise your arms in a sleeveless top.
It was the first Saturday in May warm enough to sleep in a tank top, and you woke up and stretched with your bare arms flung out like a starfish.
You pulled the white cotton curtains wide with both hands high on the rod, and the morning poured in across your arms.
At the grocery store a short woman in a church hat asked for the cereal off the top shelf, so you reached up in your tank top in the bright aisle light and handed it down.
She thanked you twice and told you to enjoy the day, and you did.
When was the last time you passed the polished elevator doors without a second look?
You pressed the button with your elbow because your hands were full of an iced coffee and a tote bag, and no compact sat in the bottom of it.
Somebody from accounting held the doors, a foot from your chin, and asked about your weekend, and you said the lake and left it there.
At lunch you pushed open the glass door of the bakery to the smell of warm bread and leaned over the case to point at the cinnamon twist.
The girl behind the counter looked you in the eye, slid it into a paper sack, and you ate the end off it at the crosswalk with sugar on your thumb.
Imagine being able to lay your face on the pillow and fall asleep without a single thought for the morning.
The pillowcase was cotton and cool against your cheek, and the lamp clicked off on the first try, with no mask and no 4-step routine first.
The fan in the corner turned its head slowly from one wall to the other, and the curtains swayed with it.
The last thing in your head was whether you’d locked the back door, and you had.
You did it for years, on the pull-out couch at your sister’s, in a motel bed off the highway and on a fold-down cot in a cabin, and you woke every time with the same easy stretch.
Skin, Head to Toe
Vol. 7 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
- Free shipping
- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
30-day, no-questions-asked money-back guarantee
Do you miss the end of the dock on a lake afternoon?
The boards were gray and warm, with a nail head here and there that had worked its way up, and you felt every one of them on your bare thighs.
You sat with your knees bent and let your pale calves hang over, and a minnow nosed around your big toe and thought better of it.
A pontoon went by with a family in matching hats, and a small boy waved from the bow with both arms, and you waved back with both of yours.
By 4pm your arms and legs were the color of toast, and your friend said you looked like a loaf that had come out of the oven just right.
Can you still see yourself on the morning call with your face close to the lens?
The laptop sat on a stack of binders so the camera was at eye level, and you never once fiddled with the angle to hide a cheek or a chin.
There were a dozen faces in the grid, each with a bookshelf behind it, and yours had a little shine like everyone else’s.
Slide 6 held the chart, and you talked over it in an easy rhythm with your hands moving, nowhere near your jaw.
Around minute 30 somebody’s dog barked on their end, and the grid laughed, and you laughed loudest.
Think back to a lake day with 3 small voices in the back seat.
The booster seats were buckled in, 3 pairs of flip-flops were kicked onto the floor, and a bag of pretzels sat open on the console.
You stood hip-deep in your swimsuit while they cannonballed around you, and you scored every jump out loud.
The smallest one paddled over, put a wet hand on your cheek and told you that you looked happy, and she held it there a second longer, as if checking.
At every stoplight on the way home you glanced in the mirror and saw 3 heads tipped over, sound asleep.
Skin, Head to Toe
Vol. 7 · Printed book · by the Girl Playbook Research Team
Price: $12.95
- Free shipping
- Please allow 7–10 business days for delivery.
30-day, no-questions-asked money-back guarantee