Wednesday, July 16, 2014

Dear Olay "Regenerist Luminous" Collection,

Call it sentimentality, but I really like ya'll.

First off, the perhaps ickily named "Oil of Olay" (now, judiciously, just "Olay," evoking, perhaps, "Ole! I'm beautiful now!") has been around a long-ass time.  Like, for a shit-ton of years.  Shit-ton is an approximation, but you get the drift. 

Once, I found an old glass (glass! it was that old!) bottle of Oil of Olay in my grandma's stuff that she left behind after she kicked it.  I kept the bottle for a while.  I may've even put a smear of the contents on my face.

Like I said, I'm sentimental.

But recently, you've given be cause to raise an eyebrow.  And I can still raise mine because I haven't had Botox. 

I refer you to your most recent advertisement campaign:

She's so beautimous, it's hard to critique this.  But, wait. Yes. Yes, I can do it.

Um, Olay?  This a lot.  This a whole lot

I mean, fuck.  Every room?  That's a whole hell of a lot to put on a woman.

What if I walk into a funeral?  Is it really appropriate to light up a funeral? 

What does lighting up a funeral with my regenerated, luminous skin look like?

Does society's expected and encouraged competition among women extend to making Damn Sure even the bereaved and/or corpse are jealous? 

Beyond the appropriateness of lighting up funerals with my face, consider a picture of me at the moment I came across this ad:

Not luminous, bitches.

That's me at my doctor's office, in the middle of a 3-hour test meant to determine whether or not I had too much bacteria in my intestines.  I had to drink a nectar that I'll call Satan's Spit, and then breathe into a tube every 15 minutes.  In between breathing in the tube, I was excusing myself to get up and go to the bathroom, where I violently deposited my bowels.  Repeatedly.  Like, somewhere in the vicinity of a dozen times over the course of the testing.

Did I mention that I was under fluorescent lighting?  Without make-up?

You don't wear make-up to gut testing, generally.

So that was my situation when I came across this advertisement. 

I've seen this ad before, in motion - a commercial that once again provided the Female Voice-Over:

I will light up every room a walk into.
 
And I have to say, Olay, that this feels awfully oppressive.  It feels like an edict.  It feels like a must-do.  It feels like my very womanhood is on the line if I don't light up rooms.
 
And you know what, Olay?  That's kind of bullshit.
 
That's kind of bullshit for the women that are out there woman-ing through having their light dampened a little bit by gut bacteria, or fluorescent lighting, or cancer, or a bad day, or
 
the social expectation that no woman EVER have (or at least not physically represent):
 
- wrinkles
- age spots
- sadness
- frownie faces
- troubles
- disease
- health issues
- fat
- sagging skin
- bare skin
- unmanaged body hair
- etc. 
 
So, Olay, I hate to say this because I'm generally a very non-confrontational person and it pains me, but until you can recognize that you've contributed to the Weight of a Thousand Hammers that has been placed on women's faces/bodies/lives, and then apologize, and then STOP IT...
 
like, fuck you a little bit. 
 
Sincerely,
 
Amber

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