I have dry skin issues while I'm gestating and lactating. They are exaggerated in the winter; since I woke up to two inches of snow this morning, I am still calling it winter. Immersed in this double whammy, my thighs and the back of my arms have developed those ugly, itchy red bumps. A few years ago, my dear mother introduced me to a little store in the mall that sold body oils. I do not know what kind of oil it was, but you could add other essential oils to the big bottle to make it smell like lavender, plumeria, vanilla, pretty much any scent under the sun. I would smear that stuff all over my thirsty skin or pour a little in my bath and my skin would become supple, soft and moisturized. The scent was subtle and gentle. I LOVED it.
Unfortunately, the store went out of business and, though I stocked up, my stockpile has been depleted. I have been back to using lotion and, if desperate, Bag Balm. (All of you lactating mothers are thinking, Yeah, as if I need another similarity to the milk cow. Ug.)
Tonight, I had a moment of genius. I have those every so often. I have a few facial skin care products that use olive oil for a base.
What? Why are you groaning? Okay. Just stop for a minute and let me tell my story. Geez.
So, I had this moment of genius. My skin needed some serious attention, so I poured olive oil in my bath. Now, our food budget is a touch on the tight side, so I pretty much buy the cheapest stuff out there. It is not that super pure kind that barely tastes like the fruit from which it is derived. My olive oil is heavy, dark greenish-yellow, can't-exchange-it-with-any-other-oil kind of product. I tip the jug and glug out a few tablespoons of the delicious stuff and slip my thin, tanned, hard body into the water. (Just kidding about the shape of my body, but I don't want you picturing my real body slipping into that water.) The bath felt wonderful. I massaged the oil into my starving cells (is that what is happening??) and could actually feel them healing. I soaked for a good long time, ignoring the three year old pod crying at the door, "I wanna take a baf with you! I'm so filfy!!!" I air-dried so I wouldn't rub off any of the olive oil, then dressed in soft cotton.
Inviting my husband to bed, sure he would love my newly softened skin, he scrunched his nose a bit and said, most lovingly, "Ewww. Why does it smell like chicken soup in here?"