E: I LOVE that game! Please can I be Lassie this time? I’m sick of being Flipper.
M: No, E. We are going to help Reader Laura with this question she has sent in. Her question goes like this:
I’m begging you guys to help me please? My skin is in meltdown. I’ve had really bad acne since I was like 12 and I’ve been on Roaccutane twice, and a bunch of other crap…so all the zits went away, but now it looks like they’re coming back, and I’m not allowed Roaccutane again. So I am desperate, and decided to contact you guys and ask for any products/hints/ANYTHING that could help and keep my skin decent enough to have a social life…bearing in mind I’m still in school, my part-time work is minimum wage and I consider £40 a cream top-end? Anything would be appreciated muchly! And keep adding new reviews to Facegoop, I love it!! Thankyou
M: Yes. I have considerable experience in this particular domain, what with my KAPOK BARK SKIN.
E: When I google ‘kapok bark’ I get a picture of a scary black bird with red eyes. Is that you, M?
M: You are laughing, E, but it’s no fun when even your mother keeps on complaining about your skin.
E: I don’t know what Kapok bark looks like, but I’m guessing it’s not a compliment.
M: It’s the bark behind that bird. Craggy. Uneven. Gross. Did you have Kapok bark skin?
E: Actually, mine is worse than ever now, cruelly. I am out kapoking kapok. Small children recoil from me in the streets. I had to cover my craggy grossness with powder today and my brush moulted so I look like a mexican wolf child, but the beard is a good distraction from the blemishes. Apart from a beard, what do you suggest for Laura?
M: Well, I have tried everything. And I mean EVERYTHING. I did Roaccutane too when I was at school. It just made me look dry and desiccated, like a mummy.
E: Always a good look, the Ramses-chic.
M: A mummy with a constant bleeding nose, because that’s what Roaccutane does to you. Frankly, I think it’s evil. EVIL, I tell you.
E: Legal Note: Roaccutane is not in league with the devil. Other satanists are available.
M: I also don’t believe in dermatologists. They either give you a crap ton of antibiotics, or cover your face in benzoid peroxide . Mum-Ra had nothing on me.
E: The only time I went to a derm, he put me on steroids for 2 years to no effect.
M: Were you surprisingly muscular though?
E: I was quite angry and moonfaced. Like a cute, squidgy Hulk.
M: Green, yet cuddly? I saw a couple of French dermatologists when I was at uni. The first one was actually quite helpful. Maybe because she worked in one of those state-sanctioned student health centres, so she obviously had some experience with acne. She made me use this Aderma Gel Moussant face & body wash, made from oats. That shit is good for you. Calms your face right down. Boots have it for £7.50.
E: Oats. People tell me good things about oats
M: Yeah. Horses eat them. They are soft and gentle, like a horse’s mane.
She also gave me a gel called Erythrogel which was quite good. More of an on-the-spot antibiotic sort of thing. My sister the actress slash moddle still uses it.
E: That there is a recommendation. SHE SNOGGED JEAN DUJARDIN IN A FILM AND EVERYTHING.
M: Then I went to see another dermato, in my 20s. Another recommendation from my sister. And do you know what she put me on?
E: Erm. I am frightened
M: You should be. A hormone treatment. You take the normal contraceptive pill, and then you take a quarter of this thing called “Androcur”. Which I believe is an androgen suppressant. I think it’s basically chemical castration. “It’s great”, she said, “You’ll have no hair on your legs, you’ll lose weight, your skin will be fantastic”.
E: Ok, scary French dermato lady, that doesn’t sound terrifying at ALL. Did it work?
M: It worked. My sex drive was also that of an obsese marmot eating a cracker. You know the one I mean.
E: I do. So what’s your actual advice, based on all this dermo-war?
M: Well. I think it’s really about a hormonal imbalance, isn’t it? And your skin being irritated and angry, like a tiny little nazi on your face.
E: Angry monkey nazi.
M: So my advice is really fucking boring I’m afraid. Take lots of Omegas, like evening primrose oil or flax seed oil. Lots of probiotics too. I once went to a crazy indian homeopathist who swore that problems in the gut had an effect on the skin. And he was, like 146 and his skin was as smooth as a baby’s, so.
E: Probiotics worked miracles with my son’s angry monkey back. Sorted that shit right out.
M: And then, GENTLENESS. I’ve noticed my skin has been much better behaved since I stopped using anything with SLS or parabens in it. I really like the Good Things cleanser, as you know, which is sweet smelling and cheap as chips.
E: Legal note: Good Things does not smell of chips. It is supposedly available at Boots, Superdrug and Sainsburys, although neither of us can actually FIND it there. Boots online has it in stock though.
M: I’ve also been using the FAB cleanser and FAB facial cream lately, and I would recommend both for their superior ability to not give me angry monkey face.
E: Another cheap product win, there.
M: There is one other thing, E, but it is very very very dear.
E: Is it ‘stealing the skin of a Russian oligarch’?
M: No, it’s the SKII facial treatment essence. A.k.a. “miracle water”. I have not a clue what is in it. By the smell of it, I would say vinegar and donkey sweat.
E: Sake, surely. And unicorn tears?
M: If unicorns cried diamonds, perhaps. I have no idea what it’s actually supposed to do, but it really did transform my skin. Calmed it right down, and rebalanced the mad sweaty oiliness I was suffering from. I’ve stopped using it now, and my face it still fine, so maybe some wealthy grandmother could bestow a bottle upon Laura instead of an inheritance, to help her through a rough patch.
M: E, We have another problem for the Ask Facegoop Agony Clinic. Reader T.Twisted (which is an awesome name), has asked us a question.
Hello Facegoop, I prostrate myself at the feet of your glorious wisdom. Please, please, please help me find a light moisturiser, preferably oil-free, that has an SPF in it. I don’t wear foundation and my current moisturiser (Liz Earle Skin Repair Light) does not have sun protection. I will be eternally grateful for any suggestions!
Glorious wisdom. We need to live up to this, E.
E: Oil free? what does that mean?
M: It means it must have no oil in it. Some beauty experts we are. Oil. You know. The stuff you get out of fruits and what not when you squeeze them. Like, avocado oil. Sesame oil. Mineral oil. SEAL OIL.
E: Squeezed out of .. what? Seal is not a fruit.
M: Chilean miners. LET US MOVE ON. FORGET ABOUT THE OIL.
M: STOP FIXATING ABOUT THE OIL.
M: There’s nothing wrong with a bit of oil, anyway.
E: I thought we weren’t talking about it any more.
E: Is that a moisturiser, then? It doesn’t SOUND like moisturiser.
M: It is a very very very lightweight foundation that feels like a cloud. No, a marshmallow. NO! a cloudy marshmallow.
E: A cloudy marshmallow. Right. So, the lady wants moisturiser and you’re offering her cloudy marshmallows??
M: It’s super hydrating, makes your face glow in a non sweaty way, and you can’t feel it on. AND it has SPF25.
E: Oooh. Fancy.
M: And it’s Australian, innit. They know about sunscreen. And koalas.
E: That is true. Also beer.
M: It’s very moisturising. It has all sorts of vitamins in it, like a smoothie.
E: Well then. It sounds lovely. Are you sure it’s oil free?
M: You’re just cranky because you’ve run out of seal blubber. No, it’s not oil free. But I’ve been using it all week and it’s not broken me out. And everything, but everything breaks me out. Looking at my own face breaks me out. Anyway, what do you suggest, cranky pants? Won’t you just tell the nice lady what you’re using to shield yourself from the big yellow orb in the sky?
E: I like Daywear. It’s nice and green. It smells like something good for you. It has SPFS And it’s not made of marshmallows or miners. But what do I know? Now I want your Australian miracle cream made from wombat poo.
M: Daywear, huh?
E: Yes, Estee Lauder the demon grandmother’s Daywear. She’s your mean gran, the one you didn’t ever want to visit. She’ll tell you you’ve put on weight and that green doesn’t suit you. But she really doesn’t want you to get wrinkles.
M: She’s all about the caring, granny. Is it like, a housecoat in a tube?
E: That’s exactly what it is. Well done M. It’s a housecoat in a tube.
M: The cosmetic equivalent of a housecoat and a set of curlers. In a tube.
E: So, T Twisted. The choice is yours. Wombat approved marshmallow clouds?Or a housecoat in a tube? NO, NO NEED TO THANK US.
Ask Facegoop is back. Send us your questions and we will mock them. Nah, we’ll answer them if we can. Maybe. This week, Tracey asks:
I have rather stupidly signed up to climb Mount Kilimanjaro next year for a local cancer charity. During this trek we will have 7 days between the beginning and end of the climb and I’ve been advised that there are no showers on the mountain. Bugger. So, my information pack tells me that I get one bowl of warm water each morning for washing.
Can you recommend any products that would make my hair bearable and skin feeling as clean as it can be with only 1 bowl of water?
Any help greatly appreciated!
First of all, I think we need to give you some props. Some mad crazy person props. The Kilimanjaro? Really? Some people would be quite content to contribute by sitting on their sofa, texting donations to the charity of their choice through the medium of modern smart phones, or perhaps absentmindedly feeling up their own bosoms in a feckless attempt at early detection. But you – YOU, Tracey! Not only will you be climbing the world’s highest freestanding mountain, you will also be facing bugs as big as your fist, mangy lions, and a measly water allocation that would make most right minded people pale.
I feel pathetically ill equipped to deal with your question, prone as I am to laughing hysterically at the mere mention of a hiking boot. Or, indeed, a hike. However, I did once spend three weeks in a house in Cambodia that had no running water, a resident gorilla spider in the “bathroom” and a bucket for a toilet, so here are my suggestions:
- La douche à la lingette: this will form the cornerstone of your hygiene regime. E swears by Bioderma, but I think in your case an industrial pack of baby wipes will probably be best. If it’s good enough for a baby’s bottom, it’s probably good enough for your face. Or your vajay-jay.
- Talcum powder: I was going to suggest dry shampoo, but this should also help with any chafing emergencies. Toe moistness must be avoided at all cost.
- If you have a fringe, grow it out. Nothing feels more manky than a limp lock of greasy hair on a sweaty forehead. Bring hair bands. Lots of them.
- Homeoplasmine: It’s suspiciously homeopathic but mildly antiseptic and heals burns and grazes better than anything I’ve tried, and you can also wear it on your lips. Or try lanolips if your lips are likely to crack and peel off your face.
This is the first in a new feature: Ask Facegoop. Send us your questions and we will mock them. Nah, we’ll answer them if we can. Maybe.
First up, Expectant Mum says:
“I need help. I am three months pregnant and would like to know your recommendations for preventing (or trying to prevent) those ghastly stretch marks”.
I asked M to join me but she refused, saying “I don’t have much to say about pregnancy stretch marks”. Well. That’s FINE because I do.
Dear Expectant Mother,
Congratulations! You have so much to look forward to! Childbirth, which is of course a carnival of unicorns and kittens and rose petals, aging ten years in the first three months of your baby’s life, those delightful post natal sweats as you expel all the water you have been retaining for six months, and much much more. Stretchmarks? Pah! We can deal with those. We are MOTHERS. MUTHAS, even. RAAAAAWR.
Here is E’s patented stretchmark prevention scheme:
1. Have a small baby. Ensure the father is small. Ideally tiny. A jockey would be perfect.
2. Have your baby early. I was fine up until around 39 weeks. Unfortunately both my babies went 2 weeks overdue and I could actually see the stretchmarks forming, minute by minute, hour by hour as I stood in front of the mirror screaming “COME OUT DAMN YOU!”. Perhaps you could be a celebrity and book in for a planned Caesarian at 36 weeks, ensuring a cutely tiny baby AND time to fit in that all important tummy tuck?
Full disclosure here, Goopers. After 2 nine pound babies emerged from my small, if lardy frame, I did have a tummy tuck. It was horrifically painful and expensive, but totally worth it, because an umbilical hernia is just not showbiz. However I still have stretch marks. Life’s a bitch. I wear one piece swimsuits. Actually, who am I kidding? I don’t wear swimsuits at all, I lurk on the beach in a Demis Roussos kaftan pretending I’m allergic to salt water.
3. As for products, well. I used that Clarins Tonic Oil, so you can disregard any good effects of that. Useless. Other people swear by Bio Oil. But you know what I think? It’s genetics. Pure genetics. I’ll be crossing my fingers for you. Shall I tell you what does work though? Perineal massage. Too much information? Yes, I thought so, but being able to sit down without the assistance of an inflatable doughnut is a price worth paying.