CHINA WINS AGAIN

At 68, I don’t wear a lot of makeup any more, and I haven’t used hair coloring in years.  (I kind of like the silvery grey-blonde it is now).  But L’Oreal has always been one of my go-to companies.  Was it the exotic French name?  Oh, probably a little bit, yes.  Not too different from a lot of others, I would guess, for whom France tantalizes from afar and somehow using a cosmetic with such a name makes one feel more feminine.  More important, though, is the fact that L’Oreal has always been in my price range.  I don’t shop at Nordstrom’s or Saks, hardly ever even go to Macy’s.  But L’Oreal has been a dependable brand whose products did what they were supposed to do.  Their commercials might have promised more, but at least they didn’t deliver less than I expected.

So imagine my disgust when I went to my Facebook page (yeah, I have a Facebook page, but that will be the topic of another blog, another day) and was confronted with this tidbit:

(Sponsored by: The Animal Rescue Site)

“Isn’t it time that cosmetic testing on animals be a thing of the past? Evidently L’Oreal Paris doesn’t think so.

L’Oreal continues to use rabbits as test subjects for their beauty products. These tests involve extremely painful procedures that can severely injure or kill the animals. Substances are dropped into their eyes, skin is shaved down in order to test chemicals, and poisons are force-fed. Most of the animals are then euthanized after they have served L’Oreal’s purpose.

You, as the consumer, have an opportunity to call L’Oreal out on its disgusting methods. Sign the pledge declaring a boycott of all L’Oreal products until the company ceases to use animals in testing of any kind!”

Here’s the petition:

Dear Chairman and CEO Jean-Paul Agon:

I am writing to let you know that until your company stops using animals in cosmetic testing, I will not buy any L’Oreal product.

L’Oreal continues to use rabbits in tests for beauty products, and the processes aren’t pretty. Substances are dropped into their eyes, skin is shaved down in order to test chemicals, and poisons are force-fed. The animals are then euthanized when they are no longer needed.

And all to meet China’s requirements to sell in their markets. This financially motivated decision to test on animals suggests your company’s ethics are for sell.

Your actions are nothing more than animal cruelty and need to stop now. Please resort to non-animal testing if you would like to keep me as a customer.

Sincerely,

So, Msr. Jean-Paul Agon, if L’Oreal can’t make enough money from its loyal customers outside China, you should go into another business.  Because you’re certainly not going to get mine anymore.

Now, read this and weep:

French cosmetics giant L’Oréal is aiming for 250 million new customers in China as a newly-affluent middle class spends its increasing wealth on the group’s stable of luxury skincare brands like Lancôme, chief executive Jean-Paul Agon said today.

The company’s Luxe luxury division, which also plans to launch its Yves Saint Laurent fragrances in China next month, has enlisted celebrities including Julia Roberts and Emma Watson to appeal to Chinese consumers in a market for luxury goods that has doubled in the past five years. New markets including China accounted for almost half of the division’s €5.56 billion (£4.7 billion) sales last year.The world’s second biggest economy is set to create 260 million more middle class consumers by 2020 as city dwellers account for the majority of the population for the first time.  Agon, speaking in Shanghai, said the cosmetics firm would be extending its reach beyond major centres like Shanghai to smaller cities and added:  “A potential 250 million new customers will be using our products in the next 10-15 years, making China the number one contributor to our ambition of winning one billion new customers.”

 

Accompanying the article was a photo of lovely Chinese models applying L’Oreal’s makeup in front of mirrors.  No rabbit pictures were included.

 

Here’s where you can sign & SHARE the petition: www.bit.ly/18GBLez

 

While you’re at it, send copies to Julia Roberts and Emma Watson, too!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

LOVE TO ALL THE SECRET MOTHERS

I initially wrote this for last year’s Mother’s Day.  I think it needs repeating, not because I wrote it but because there are a lot of hurting hearts out there.

The Womb of the Unknown Mother

You were young.  Too young.  Or perhaps not.

Innocent and naive…or perhaps not.

You already had too many mouths to feed.  Or just your own, but not enough food.

The father had denied.  Never answered your letter.  Or simply disappeared.

Your parents were angry.  Embarrassed.  Ashamed.  And/or Catholic.

Yet abortion was never a consideration.  Catholic or no religion, for you life is a life, even if it must be lived away from yours.

So you gave the child away and walked into your future alone.

Most of your friends, even your relatives, don’t know about this part of your past life, your lost child.  Perhaps the only one you ever bore.

They don’t know about the solemn thoughts that sometimes steal into you in the dark silence of the late night hours.  Or that stab you in teary surprise as you walk past the baby department on your way to the perfume counter.

But there are some who understand, some whose external lives may not mirror yours yet whose internal lives mesh perfectly with yours, if only on Mother’s Day.  And on this day, you all travel together separately, deep inside yourselves, to meet the person you were then and try to explain once again to yourself and your far-away child why you did what you did.

Perhaps your deed was heroic, perhaps selfish.  Probably some of both.  It was what it was and you became who you are.

But there will always be one small corner of your heart, one soft layer of your womb that is empty and will never be filled.  It is to that part I address my salutation, and I mourn with you in sisterhood and motherhood.

And for your life today, what you have made of yourself, I offer a

Happy Unknown Mother’s Day.

WordPress’s Newest Addition

Nothing makes me feel more secure than adding another Google app.  I refuse to “Google” anything!  I use either GoodSearch, which earns me money for my charities, or Dogpile, which gets down to business without 20,000 pix to look at/through while searching for something.  WordPress, you can google my a**!

(“Greater Security with Two Step Authentication

We know your blog is important to you, and today we’re proud to announce Two Step Authentication: an optional new feature to help you keep your WordPress.com account secure. For those of you who use Two Step Authentication with your Google account, you’ll know how useful this feature is for keeping your account secure.

Two Step Authentication works like this: when you log in to your WordPress.com account, we’ll prompt you to enter a secret number. To get that secret number, you’ll need to download the Google Authenticator App on your smartphone.”)

Fun Things I Did This Weekend

Found an old book I had kept (A Short History of a Small Town, by T.R. Pearson) and reread it to see why I had kept it.  Yep, It’s a keeper.   In the 70s, I took a course at Cal State Long Beach called Fiction Now.  It was taught by someone who was to become a well-known poet and author, Gerald Locklin.  He introduced me to Tom Robbins and John Gardner.  He had me read Mary Hemingway, too, but then, nobody’s perfect.   If Pearson had been around back then, I think Jerry would have had me read that author, too.  Actually, I wish he had because then I would have known this guy was around.  Truth is, I’ve spent a lot of years looking for good female writers.  A vestige of my roaring feminist past, I guess.   I can see many weekends ahead gorging myself on Pearson.

Watched a movie from 2004 (Connie and Carla).  Only got 2-1/2 stars from the DISH-TV review but 6+ in my book.  But then I’m partial to comedies and musicals, especially since my brother was a Broadway percussionist specializing in musicals in the 60s.  I bet I know almost every lyric to every musical back then.  My canary, TJ, and I sang all the way through a TV no-commercials showing of  Oklahoma.  My mother-in-law said she couldn’t hear herself talk.  Neither could I.  Heheheheh.

Went to the site of a WP blogger (writingforfoodinindy) who had liked my quad-observational post and wrote a very nice, succinct critique of it.  I’ve found a new writer to follow and with whom I look forward to many interesting discussions.

Had a surprise call from my high school buddy and spent over an hour talking about old memories and making new ones.  I hate talking on the telephone.  Whenever it rings, I hope it’s either a wrong number or a telemarketer just waiting for me to slam the receiver down in his/her ear.  I almost didn’t answer this call.  I would have missed a highlight of my weekend.  When will I learn to think of the phone as my friend?  OK, so never.  So any friends who might be reading this, I apologize ahead of time if your call doesn’t get answered.  I’m sorry.  Really.  I know, I can be a real asshole at times.

Went through an old journal from the ’70s and found some of my writings that I reworked and posted here.  Gave me some impetus for writing again.  More than stuff like this post.  I hope.  And that made me think just now about what someone long ago had said in one of the many writing classes I’ve taken over the years:  Ya gotta write it all out, good and bad, and keep writing and getting it out there.  Get it all out, the good, the bad and the ugly, until nothing is left but the good.  Or the ugly.  The ugly is good, too.  OK, so no one said that last part except me.  I think it’s pretty ugly;-)

Memorial Fragments

He takes her head in his hands to kiss her

a wet-tongue kiss

and his fingers and mustache, even his saliva

smell of marijuana.

Then he arches and groans.

He hasn’t noticed her lack of response.

She knows she’s alone

He’s gone inside himself again,

Not sharing love.

Not sharing anything.

They ask her why she doesn’t smoke anymore

and she tells them it’s school

no dope during school.

But that’s not it.

She just got tired of evenings spent

with friends and a bhong

Each of them alone though they were all together.

So she doesn’t smoke anymore.

When they finally get dressed she goes to her room,

sits at her desk,

does homework.

While he watches the six o’clock news and gets stoned.

The Clairol Girl

A mattress

is only a mattress,

and

at 33

I’m not getting better.

Only older.

Dilemma

If you can’t write a concrete poem,

Do you have a cinder block?