Keeping Kitchens Safe from Teenage Girls

Don’t you just love autumn? That certain nip in the air; the sun-washed fields of large, orange globes soon to be reborn as ghoulish characters dwelling on front porches; golden leaves falling from trees to be blown away by the wind; my extra thick and creamy pumpkin facial masque.

“Now what,” you are probably thinking, “does that have to do with autumn?”

OK, ever since I was a mere slip of a girl, I’ve had a thing for using what is customarily considered gastronomical items as, well … beauty products. Now if that sounds weird to you, let me just say – Hold on! Because it gets soooo much worse. I once confided to Rosie, my good pal, or so I thought, that my ultimate fantasy was jumping into a tub of Jell-o and rolling about in it, feeling it go all squishy through my fingers and toes. She looked at me rather oddly and then suggested I seek professional help.

My little fetish began in high school when my personal beauty funds were somewhat limited. So I raided the kitchen, confiscating provisions from cupboards and fridge and formulating wondrous concoctions. Many the afternoon I’d traipse outside smelling suspiciously like last night’s salad bathed in my vinegar, oil and iodine tanning solution topped off with my tightening – yes, even at 16 we girls thought we needed to be tightened – whipped egg white facial masque. 

Furthermore, I liked to set my hair (using jumbo soda can-sized hair rollers) with beer. This presented a bit of a problem since I was too young to buy beer. (“But, truly, officer, it’s for my hair! You know, to make it shiny!”)  When I got really desperate, I used regular old cow’s milk, the downside being that my hair smelled a bit sour after a few hours in the sun with dairy products drying on my head. Plus the mound of softly-falling powdery milk flakes that rested on my shoulders wasn’t quite the beauty statement I was searching for in high school.

Years later I learned that little apples don’t fall too far from the tree. Daughter Number Two was still taking her meals in her high chair when she developed a keen fondness for yogurt with fruit on the bottom. I’d fill her little bowl with her favorite snack, and she would spoon it right up – at first. Shortly thereafter she was dipping into her bowl with both hands, then smearing fruity yogurt over her face and through what little hair she had on her head in what I deemed the “Total Dining Experience.”            

So when I saw a recent Internet ad declaring, “Believe it or not, you can use BEER in an at-home spa treatment,” being the mature, sophisticated girl that I am, I naturally thought – “Sweet! Works for me!”

That’s right, along with my yummy pumpkin facial masque, I can now suppress my locks with the “Beer Frizz Tamer,” deep cleanse with applesauce and sugar, eliminate razor bumps with yogurt and cucumber, refresh my soles (that would be my feet, my other soul is fresh enough, thank you) with mint leaves and brown sugar, and if I haven’t stripped the kitchen entirely bare, zap my t-zone with strawberries, honey and lemon.

The obvious problem here is if you are the parent of a teenager who loves to rummage about in the kitchen looking for beauty essentials, you may suddenly develop an overwhelming need to consume some beer with a raw egg chaser, only to find that your last beer has disappeared behind the shower curtain and your egg supply is nonexistent. But your youngster’s skin is looking strangely taut – in a Joan Rivers sort of way.

Therefore, you may wish to escort your teen to the nearest cosmetics counter. There you will find miles of counter space piled high with all sorts of compulsory beauty products – mandatory for putting your impressionable daughter’s best … um … face forward.

“Tell me how this one works,” I ask the dewy-skinned young girl behind the counter who, until last week, was probably still in diapers.

“This product is essential,” she purrs enthusiastically. “And don’t be fooled by other products making the same claims.  Because our product, Goddess in a Jar, uses the whole chain of DNA rather than just a single molecule like the competitors’ products use.”

This time it was me suggesting that somebody might need professional help. No, seriously, instead I bit my lip and refrained from asking why in the name of all that’s holy would I want to apply a whole chain of DNA to my face? Personally, I’d feel safer sticking with the single molecule theory. I mean – what if one day somebody goes off the deep end at the skin care factory and decides to add monkey DNA to this product? Would I develop a sudden taste for bananas? Begin to grow primate hair and large ears and be seized by a rebellious desire to swing from the ceiling?

So in the event you are concerned that your best olive oil might be pressed (OK – I just couldn’t help that one) into service by your 14-year-old as a groovy eye make-up remover, bear in mind that grossly expensive cosmetics are just a short drive away. Trust me: it will take you more than five minutes to spend hundreds of dollars and walk out of the store carrying the teeniest little shopping bag.

And the next time you are craving nachos, you won’t have to wreak havoc on the faces of your daughter and her slumber party playmates to liberate your guacamole.

Gale Hammond is a 23-year Morgan Hill resident. Reach her at

Ga*********@ao*.com











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