One of the many frivolous things I wonder about when I’m wondering about post-apocalyptic life is hygiene. I’ve gone on at length about my lady parts, their mechanics, and how I plan to keep them baby free and satisfied. But recently I’ve been thinking about cleanliness.
Well, recently is a lie. I think about cleanliness daily and lady-specific cleanliness almost every time I see women surviving the end of the world alongside men. The Monthly Mess is one thing and The Daily Funk is another.
“The daily what now?” you may wonder. The running and sweating and wearing the same clothes day in and day out and not having toilet paper all add up to The Daily Funk.
Continue reading “What's the first thing you wash in the shower?”
As often as I can, I wash dishes and vacuum and rub things down with disinfectant until they’re clean. But I recently realized how important it is to clean my spaces of clutter that can hinder me both mentally and physically.
I carry way too many things with me no matter the time, day, or occasion. I’ll pack 12 days’ worth of clothing and supplies for a 7-day trip. Then I win inevitable realize I’m missing some actually vital thing that didn’t even cross my mind.
My luggage will have socks suitable for the three pairs of shoes but no toothbrush. Luckily, I can usually buy whatever the thing is I left behind. However, when it comes to survival and prepping the last thing you want is to realize you have a package of markers and no food.
I’m the type of person who wrestles with sentimental and speculative value. “I could use that for something,” I tell my husband as he dangles random items with no place or purpose in our house over the trash. He shakes his head and places it back on the dining room table.
Honestly? I almost never do anything with those things that I could use for something. They take up space and confuse me when I have to organize mentally. Mentally, I need to establish where things are and why, what to do if I can’t see where I’m going, and how to make efficient use of space and time in an emergency.
When my batteries are mixed in with bottle caps and my shovel is buried behind decorating supplies, I’m in a dangerous spot when it comes time to reach blindly into that box or closet in a hurry. Great, I’ve cut my hand, dropped a box on my head, and am now in need of medical attention. This is a sign it’s time for me to clean out my trash and make room for some treasure (read: breathing room and safe passage in my home).
With Tavia being concerned about where to get her hair done, and me being the vainest creature on two legs, this is a genuine concern for me. And people look strangely at you when you admit that, when you tell them that among the normal concerns about post-apocalyptic living you are also worried about how to keep your skin from shrinking in on itself like a moldy apple.
So I’ve put a lot of thought into this- usually while lounging in a hot bath and applying one of a dozen quirkily named expensive products to myself. And I have decided that after initial concerns have passed that the first thing I’m going to do is raid the beauty section of the department store.
But what about when that stuff’s gone? What will I do? I will make my own cosmetics, with readily available ingredients.
Continue reading “Post-apocalyptic beauty tips”