The Day-Glow

Photo: Getty Images

I admit it -- I'm a fan of Say Yes To The Dress. The slutty ensembles purchased by devout Christians, the closeted brothers acting as style mentors, the MILFs using camera time to expose their boobies -- it's totally my guilty pleasure. However, there is one element of the show that I cannot accept: bridal consultant Camille. Ignore her comments or her fashion suggestions, and just stare at her face. Her skin is so oily that Sophia Loren bottles her greasy goodness for pre-Award ceremony cover-up. This cannot be healthy. As her lips get larger, her pores grow deeper, so much so that they begin to radiate their own light.
This must be day-glow. This is not to be confused with a tan. A tan comes from the outside in, while the day-glow comes from the inside out.
But let us not think Camille is a revolutionary! Remember Steven "Cojo" Cojocaru (above) -- Canadian fashion critic with five-second slots on Entertainment Tonight? Even before his kidney transplants, he was the day-glow pioneer. Not quite orange and not quite albino, his skin is situated somewhere between vampire and oompa loompa. Cojo's screen time is met with constant cringes for fear beams of ultraviolet rays will permeate the television screen and obliterate my existence. No, I am not exaggerating. Added to the pack of day-glowers is The Dog Whisperer, Cesar Milan. Though his skin is darker than the other two day-glow nominees, it is no less shiny. Dogs can literally see their reflection on his forehead. Maybe this is the secret to his training technique.
It almost seems that day-glow evades sexuality. Yes, we know they are sometimes gay or transexually inclined (Cesar undoubtedly included, despite his marriage), but can we picture them in any sort of sexualized situation? Would sex be impossible due to the lack of friction caused by heavy sheen? Or sadly, is the day-glow the new mustache?
In my mere 21-years of life I have spent approximately $10,000 (facials, humidifiers, La Mer lotion, etc.) on trying to erase oiliness. I wasted countless days of my middle school career attempting to hide what the Jewish gods so graciously bestowed upon me. I have scrubbed, I have dehydrated, and I have soaked. And right when my skin suddenly becomes matte, oily becomes fashionable. Excuse me, I've got some Oreos to fry.

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Tags: Popnography

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