I Am SO COOL: 2025 Edition
I Am So Cool
I have a dear friend, Oliver Frail, who long ago helped me learn to laugh at myself when I do embarrassing things… which, if you know me, happens quite frequently. Her sage advice? When you catch yourself in one of those moments, simply say, “I am so cool.”
Here’s the 2025 edition of that life lesson.
Last week, I had a fit of inspiration to do a face mask before I started my day. My go-to routine, taught to me by my friend Christina Berg, is a bentonite clay and apple cider vinegar mix. I stir it up with a makeup brush (hot tip: it’s also great for cleaning makeup brushes) and brush it all over my face. I’ve done this dozens of times—it usually makes my skin feel fabulous.
This time, however, was different.
I followed my usual steps, let it dry while I made coffee, called my mother-in-law, and caught up on emails. But when I rinsed it off… it looked like I had the worst sunburn I’ve ever had. Truly—it looked like a chemical burn.
I panicked. I started putting wet towels in the freezer to use as cold compresses, grabbed my ice roller, and frantically asked ChatGPT what the long-term effects of an apple cider chemical burn might be. (For the record, ChatGPT was calm. I was not.)
Luckily, Jeff was out of town, so I didn’t have to answer, “What did you do that for?!” while I was mid-crisis.
After an hour of icing and some calming lotion, I finally toned my face down to a passable shade of pink. I had errands to run—grocery store, aesthetician (because why not show off my handiwork to a skincare professional?), and a quick stop at the countertop place to tell them what a great job they’d done in the house we are building.
While standing there chatting—me standing, her sitting—I noticed my nose itched. I reached up to scratch it and felt… something.
Mortified, when I got back in the car and rubbed my nose for real, A WHOLE BUNCH of dried clay fell out of my nostrils.
So yes, I managed to calm the chemical burn, but completely failed to notice that I had enough dried clay in my nose to make me look like the boogeriest 56-year-old on the planet.
When I realized what had just happened—that I’d confidently paraded around town like this—I could only laugh, think of Oliver, and remind myself, that I remain, “so very cool.”
This, friends, is why laughing is so important, not only for your health, but for your own self-compassion.
