Teens, they have so many choices.
Lucy Hale
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Lea Michele
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Ashley Benson
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Sarah Hyland
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Teens, they have so many choices.
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Kevin Mazur / Getty Images
Kevin Mazur / Getty Images
Frazer Harrison / Getty Images
Does this dark lipstick make me intimidating?
Resting niceface is a condition where your relaxed, resting face looks extra friendly and approachable. Even if you're tired or unhappy, your face says, "Hello! Please talk to me!" It's the opposite of "resting bitchface," where your resting face seems angry, even when you're not. I'm not a huge fan of the term "bitchface," for obvious reasons. It feeds into the idea that women should appear happy and pleasant at all times even though they're not robots. Plus, men can have a resting mean face too. (Granted, "resting meanface" doesn't sound as cool and edgy.)
I would gladly trade my resting niceface for a resting bitchface. I would do a face transplant with a Halloween jack-o-lantern if I could find a willing surgeon. Because the secret is: I'm not THAT nice. I don't want to chat with strangers. Ideally, I'd live in a cave and never talk to anyone. When I'm walking down the street in a crowd of people, clipboarders and people selling things always single me out. Sometimes people yell "bitch!" after me if I scurry away because I couldn't live up to the niceness my face promised.
I needed a way to look less like a cherubic baby and more like an intimidating modern woman. I decided bold, edgy makeup was the answer. As black lipstick becomes less goth and more mainstream, I decided to try out some darker makeup to see if I could look less goody-goody and more burn-a-hole-in-your-soul-with-lasers-I-shoot-from-my-eyes.
Disclaimer: I am obviously not a professional makeup artist. I'm just a regular person who tries to wear makeup.
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Featuring a cute bunny towel, a hopscotch rug, face masks, and jumpsuits that simply stun.
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*rubs banana on shoe*
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I became orange so that you (hopefully) don't have to.
And contrary to what this picture might suggest, I don't like looking orange! So on my quest to find the perfect summer glow without looking like a tangerine, I decided to try out four different and popular self-tanners to see which one worked best.
For some background, I'm part Lebanese and find that my skin tends to tan pretty easily with little sun exposure. But in recent years, I've become much more mindful of UV damage and have opted out of spending too much time in the sun.
These are the tanners I decided to try out:
Jergens, L'Oreal, St. Tropez, Kardashian
I rated each self-tanner on overall product, usability, durability, and of course how the tan actually looked! And to ensure accuracy, I waited at least a week in between to let my skin recover and become its natural color again. I also used lemon juice to remove prior color when necessary. #Hack.
When I think about using this product, I am filled with one overwhelming thought and memory which is that this stuff SMELLS. I hate the smell of this. It lingers, and never truly goes away. If I had to describe the smell, I would say it smells like a plastic bottle full of chemicals that you left sitting in the sun for six hours. Hot, melted, gooey chemical smell. This formula also leaves you feeling sticky and residue-y. I found that I preferred putting it on at night because then it didn't feel as sticky all day, but the downside is that my sheets and blankets reeked and felt sticky.
As far as overall color? Not so great for an instant tan, but decent for a gradual color. It takes several days to show up, and when it does, it's so subtle you honestly don't even know it's there. It takes effort to get the color! Which could be a good thing, depending on what you're looking for in a self-tanner. But beware of putting this anywhere near your armpits. You'll never recover from the smell. I'm not sure why, probably some sort of technical term, but armpit sweat mixed with this self-tanner = death. TL;DR: The color doesn't last or show up to the party until late, it smells, and it's sticky. But, it's affordable. So if you're looking for a very subtle color with little hassle, this one is for you. It's not for me, ever again.
Overall Rating: 4/10
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Is it 1, 2, 3, 4, or Smoky?
Thumbnail Image Credits: @tweetlikeagirl and urbandecay.com.
"I am helping the economy by buying this shirt!"
"I deserve it, it's been a long week!"
CW / Via Twitter: @_jangelin
"Really, this is a good thing for my country!"
Disney
And 9 times out of 10 you justify it.
*LBH, it's a very necessary purchase 'cause it looked good on you!
Wisdom teeth are a bitch.
@SickelsAlexis / Via Twitter: @SickelsAlexis
@cfinkhouse / Via Twitter: @cfinkhouse
@errmergawdimhay / Via Twitter: @errmergawdimhay
@MonicaBrignola / Via Twitter: @MonicaBrignola
Bookmark this immediately.
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Read more about it here.
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(It's best to match the crayon color to the zipper). Get the full instructions here.
Channel your inner ~Ariel~.
Some people love them. Some people hate them.
Forever 21
Mermaid crowns use shells, sparkles, charms, and other hints of whimsy for some serious Ariel ~vibes~. Chelsea Shiels — a Melbourne-based crafter and owner of the Etsy shop Chelsea's Flower Crowns — has garnered over 80,000 followers on Instagram from posting her beautiful creations.
@chelseasflowercrowns / Via instagram.com
There are more than 4,000 posts logged under #mermaidcrown on Instagram showing people making and rocking these magical headpieces.
@chelseasflowercrowns / Via instagram.com
So regal.
@clearly_golden / Via instagram.com
From bikinis and one-pieces to men's trunks and kids' suits, here's the swimwear you'll want to spend the rest of the summer in.
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According to my most recent calculations, I now spend more time in pajamas than out of them — about 135 hours a week. By pajamas, I am not talking about overpriced, butt-hugging athleisure wear or a silky kimono. Comfort, not cuteness, is my muse, and I am strictly a pink cotton polka-dot pant, L.L.Bean flannel, and old sweatshirt kind of gal.
I have never been someone who wears a pair of jeans or a dress around the house, and I doubt I ever will be. However, my relationship with pajamas has grown more passionate (and complicated) as I've grown older, to the point that it's verging on compulsion. I'm hooked.
As a freelance writer, I roll out of bed, make coffee, and get to work in the same clothes I slept in. When I first started freelancing, people told me that it was important to get dressed for the day, even if I never left the house. I also know fellow workers-from-home who have designated "daytime" PJs (i.e., a slightly nicer pair of sweats and a bra), but that's never been my MO. I just don't see the point.
Despite the pleasure that basking all day in soft, well-worn cotton imparts, it is tainted by sproutlings of guilt. I have always felt my compulsive pajama wearing is a propensity I should hide, as if to embrace and defend it would be to avow something shameful, but I've decided that ends now. I will hide no longer, and here's why.
Charlotte Gomez / BuzzFeed
Pajamas and I have had a long and loving relationship. Growing up, the first thing I did after school was swap that day's outfit — fraught with tentative assertions of identity, rippling teenage insecurity, and the burden of an inexorably changing body — for a men's XL swim team sweatshirt that my body could lose itself inside.
The magic of pajamas did not wane as I left adolescence for adulthood. I joined the Peace Corps after college and moved to a village where the rules of appropriate dress were strict. As the sole foreigner, I was, above all else, conspicuous, and living in a culture where what I wore sharply determined my status. The instant the sun set, I burrowed in my house, exchanging long-sleeved collared shirts and knee-length skirts for a tie-dyed tank top and boy's boxers. Donning pajamas there was more than a bid for comfort; it was a source of secretive, restorative joy — a way to demarcate my personal time and space, to retreat from the eyes of the community, and to reassert my selfhood.
That experience threw into sharper relief what pajamas have meant to me throughout my life, and still mean to this day. I truly feel like me in them — natural, unaffected, and comfortable in my own skin — in a way I just don't in "normal" clothes. And this feeling of me-ness allows my mind to escape from the unceasing parade of pressure, anxiety, and self-doubt that traipses along with me in the outside world. I can unwind and reconnect with what feels like a purer state of being.
Charlotte Gomez / BuzzFeed
While I relish my all-day pajama fests, I still feel accosted by voices that pass judgement on able-bodied adults who spend most of their time in plaid pants, a zoo T-shirt and a black hoodie. As if I'm just one step away from becoming Miss Havisham, but in PJs instead of a decrepit wedding dress. Surely (those voices suggest) confident, capable, and admirable people are not in flannel at 2 p.m. on Tuesdays — a suggestion I feel grippingly aware of when accepting packages from the FedEx guy.
Maybe it was growing up in a community where women put on makeup and jewelry to play tennis; maybe it was soaking up magazines and websites that eviscerate celebrities for looking "frumpy" and "dumpy" because they chose to leave the house in sweats; maybe it was blushing as college roommates joked about my pajama proclivities. Whatever the case, I have always felt and feared that my pajama-wearing is a license for judgment.
The difference is that now, I no longer care. I am a grown-ass woman, and I can wear what I want, when I want, without it serving in any way as a reflection of my worth or character. One of the salient pieces of wisdom I've picked up over the course of my twenties is how liberating it feels to dispel habits and thought patterns that don't serve me. And reproaching myself for wearing pajamas all the time does not serve me.
Charlotte Gomez / BuzzFeed
I've found that spending most of my time in my pajamas actually helps me be more creative and productive. Getting dressed does demand time and thought, especially for women. It means consciously choosing to trade clothes that feel good, and whose sole purpose is to feel good, for clothes that have another, external purpose, and are less comfortable to boot. Instead of investing time and thought into what to wear, pajamas make clothing irrelevant, which allows me to funnel my energies elsewhere.
Charlotte Gomez / BuzzFeed
Women may no longer be expected to wear corsets or don heels just to weather everyday life, but we are expected to look "nice" and to demonstrate that we take our appearance seriously. Relaxing these standards represents a dangerous descent, the (very questionable) logic follows, toward the ultimate rock bottom for women: "Letting yourself go."
Society wraps our worth up in how we look, and this state of affairs is not a relic of the past. Clothing is still treated as a proxy for how cool, rich, feminine, tasteful, creative, sexual, moral, and professional women are, and choosing wrong has repercussions. It could mean getting passed over for a promotion or being accused of "asking for" rape. To help women navigate this morass, we are constantly berated with advice on how to dress — dress for your body type, dress for success, dress for the life you want. As if by just selecting the right outfit, all the challenges before us will disappear. Every time I get dressed, I feel the burden of these pressures, and would rather avoid them when I can.
Choosing the "wrong" clothing can also be crushingly personal. What feels right to me one day may feel wrong the next. Sometimes I wake up feeling unhappy or alienated from my body. Sometimes I hate everything in my closet. Sometimes I don't feel good in my own skin, and I just want to feel good in the garments I put on it. Failing to match an ensemble to the dark tangled web of emotions and neuroses that govern how clothes make me feel — in short, wearing something I don't feel completely comfortable in — makes me feel disoriented and anxious. It's a distraction.
This endless litany of negotiations is exhausting, which is why I opt out of them as much as possible. When I am home, I say "fuck it" to all of that nonsense. I keep my pajamas on.
Charlotte Gomez / BuzzFeed
My pajama-wearing does not happen in a vacuum. I have a partner, and women who hope to attract and keep a man can't be schlubs — or so I've heard. As Eva Mendez, the woman who famously snagged Ryan Gosling, said, "You can't do sweatpants. Ladies, number-one cause of divorce in America, sweatpants, no!"
I've wondered, as I strut around the house in the same rumpled PJs for the third consecutive day, whether this will be harmful to my own relationship. Are my pajamas a symptom of a complacency that will ultimately be toxic to our romance? Decades down the road, after one too many nights spent in my Thai massage pants (which he really hates), will my partner run off to bone a mythical neighbor who lounges about in a white silk negligee?
The rational side of me knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that the answer is no, and the question is bullshit. Our relationship is built on far more than what I/we look like or wear, as all meaningful relationships are. At the same time, I'm sure he'd prefer it if I didn't look like a mess most of the time, and it can occasionally be difficult for me — an overachiever who abhors disappointing people — to not view this as some sort of failure on my part, even though I know he doesn't.
But I also know that I'd prefer it if he loved to wash dishes and favored art museums over video games. Mutual acceptance of each other's foibles and flaws is a wonderful thing, and for two people who plan to live together forever, it's essential.
Charlotte Gomez / BuzzFeed
Despite my fervent belief that I am not obliged to get dolled up for the benefit of others (or an empty house) — that I can do what makes me happy without compunction, that the double standards for men and women are unjust, and that society is wrong for attempting to foist an oppressive view of femininity upon me that links my worth to my appearance — guilt creeps in. I can't help but feel as though I have to apologize or justify my behavior. I still care, but I don't want to. Hence dedicating almost 2,000 words to why it's okay for me to always wear pajamas all the time.
I think women are taught to feel ashamed about giving ourselves pleasure, especially when it comes at the expense of a man's. Whether it's pajamas or a chunk of chocolate cake, self-indulgence feels transgressive and can get polluted by guilt, even when done in the privacy of our own homes. To go outside is to open ourselves up to appraisal, harassment and discrimination. Is it too much to ask that the tyranny of "looking good" not cross the threshold of my door?
Thus far, I have successfully managed to stave off the pajamapocalypse, when the walls cave in and I wake up one day penniless, bedraggled, and alone in a pile of threadbare cotton because I surpassed my comfort allowance. And I'm ready to embrace my quirk, to revel in the fact that my job allows me to spend all day wearing exactly what I want, and ignore anyone who would cast side-eye on what is an innocuous source of joy.
So here's to you, pajamas — the only clothes I ever truly want to wear, from now until death do us part.
This is how your children are born!
I mean: Look at these darling newborn duodecuplets???!!
Anyway, have you ever wondered how your lipstick babies are ~made~? The Zoe Report visited the Bite Beauty factory and made a video of the process. It's like watching a miracle.
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The ingredients are combined in a big pot to make a beautiful lipstick stew.
The Zoe Report by Rachel Zoe / Via youtube.com
Look at that creamy sheet of makeup just churning out of there.
The Zoe Report by Rachel Zoe / Via youtube.com
Things are heating up, literally.
The Zoe Report by Rachel Zoe / Via youtube.com
You'll never have to go to the post office again.
When it comes to online shopping, getting clothes that actually *fit* can be half the battle. With vanity sizing, numbers and letters are usually of little help in determining which size will truly work for you.
Here are some tips on how to outsmart confusing online shopping sizes...
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If you don't have measuring tape handy, wrap a long piece of string around your body to take measurements and then measure the length of the string to get a sense of what sizes you should go for.
Andres Rodriguez / Getty Images
Having clothes on will make it very difficult to get accurate measurements.
Leonard Mc Lane / Getty Images
If your boobs swell around the time of your period, measure them at their least and most swollen so you can get a sense of how much difference there is between the two. To learn more about taking your own measurements, go here.
Get ready to salivate.
NBC
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