BEAUTY: Sisley Paris | Le Sculpteur Intensive Contouring Care

And the emulsion smells like a walk in the woods. Like a real forest. No artificial park, but a Cypres hill and you carry, among other things, lavender, mandarins, rosemary, sage, and marjoram in a wooden wicker picnic basket. And somewhere there, you will have the picnic with lavender on a red and white checkered blanket in a porcelain vase and a small wicker basket, one that you can only find in a flea market today full of mandarins. You lie down on that red and white checkered blanket, and you will watch the clouds, which are once in the shape of…

I embarked on a review of contouring body care from Sisley Paris. It definitely works. Because I believe Sisley Paris. I believe, and I know that they have amazing products, I don’t know all of them (yet), but I am convinced that they spent years on most of them before they came up with something innovative and great. Which often looks as inconspicuous as Le Sculpteur. You are not afraid to take it into your hands. Grease it. You are not afraid that it will fall on the ground and get destroyed. You are not afraid that you will be affraid to use it, touch it, squeeze the white pump, put it on your hand, smell it and apply it, let’s say, on the whole body.  The mint packaging is already soothing to the eye. And the emulsion smells like a walk in the woods. Like a real forest. No artificial park, but a Cypres hill and you carry, among other things, lavender, mandarins, rosemary, sage, and marjoram in a wooden wicker picnic basket. And somewhere there, you will have the picnic with lavender on a red and white checkered blanket in a porcelain vase and a small wicker basket, one that you can only find in a flea market today full of mandarins. You lie down on that red and white checkered blanket, and you will watch the clouds, which are once in the shape of a dragon, the other looks like piggy with the name Gaston. This adores tasty and fragrant truffles, and his owner now has a great deal with his neighbor because Gaston ate almost all of them. Gaston, Gaston.  There is no silence in the forest at all, as you might think. It’s like a highway full of bugs and cooperating ants. They are all getting busy, and they repair and build, and they secretly taste from your yummy cake, as if they were on the terrace in Halle5. They walk courageously on mandarins and hide under sage leaves. Birds are flying over your head, pretending to fly just by the way, but the real reason is to take a look at what you have on your plate and whether you have brought something for them. Or not. The wind blows there, and it says its shush-shush-shush, and it flies into your hair, and your ears, shush, and the moss is green, embroidered with delicate flowers and softer and more expensive than the Persian rug. I started a review of contouring care and woke up on green moss.  The emulsion will not work if you are loading yourself with the Nutella (like me) on the one hand and Le Scultpeur emulsion on the other. Never. The truth is, you should eat healthily anyway with or without emulsion. Don’t bother your body with starvation. Drink a lot, and I mean a lot of fluids. I mean water and tea. You certainly know all this, and you have heard it countless times. Not wine, dear ladies. Even though I imagine white wine in a crystal glass on a stalk, a tub full of foam, an aromatic soothing candle, and I’ll finish it all with this emulsion, it is kind of beautiful feeling.

The emulsion does not stick and is immediately absorbed into the skin. You don’t even have to worry about a silk blouse. Or if you run in the hot summer months around your apartment in a satin bathrobe and you also have curtains, as I finally do. If you don’t have curtains, you definitely have blinds. Because curious neighbors never sleep. Never. And they are glued to your bathrobe day and night. And some have binoculars. And they will know all your pigment signs when the bathrobe falls to the ground. I guarantee you that.  Fitness is stress and nerves, heavy labor, and sweat. Nothing for me. And one thing somehow can’t do without the other. That is why they developed Le Sculpteur in Sisley from Paris. It will not train your body, and your muscles will not grow as the one Schwarzenegger has. But your skin will be firmer, smoother, softer. You will see the first results after 14 days. The worst is waiting. Even worse is waiting without the Nutella. The beautiful scent of the emulsion will definitely make your wait more pleasant. Beware, it is addictive. 

I would like to know what such a woman’s happiness looks like when she looks at her body and says I am beautiful because I am (finally?) beautiful. Certainly, they would want to feel the satisfaction with a well-done job in Sisley in Paris. Be sure to write to them if you have passed the test. Even if not. And why would you want to try it, and why not? And what they should improve and where they should add, and where to remove. Just don’t touch my Cypres tree. Please. And my moss carpet. 

I know that they could not wait for the moment, when someone like me tries the emulsion on my own skin, and I will say,  that  

someone once created a woman. And it wasn’t Michelangelo. And it was not any plastic surgeon. It wasn’t even Coco. Karl didn’t make it either.  For a long time, there was nothing, and the world was quiet. Until someone came up with the great idea and made a mirror. Right after, it was as if the world had gone mad and people finally had the opportunity to see with their own eyes and compare themselves with others, and someone conceited said, I am more beautiful than you. The world has turned upside down. Until then, people were looking into each other’s eyes. With the mirror, the world turned, and self-love and hatred came to a sister, a girlfriend, and especially myself.  

And I’m no different.  

What is happening to this world, and what is happening to me. I have the first wrinkled skin on my neck. And they are not wrinkles from worries and children, and they are not sleepless nights over the pain of a loved one, and they are not wrinkles on the hands from hard work, and they are not wrinkles from laughter. My life was empty. I keep my wrinkles for the long moments that are yet to come. And that will mark me. Forever. I don’t want people to talk about me once she had a carefree life, because a carefree life is not perfect. Not even nice. She is not perfect, but she is beautiful. I want someone to think that. Someone who reads this post, someone who meets me at the door, someone who walks by. It would be enough for me, if he only thinks about it, but pretty loud.  And so far, people are going through my life just by the way, flattering my shoes and dyed hair and perfect lines, and it’s all worth zero.  

There is always room for improvement, said educated women and wise men accept it, those men who throw themselves under the knife of a plastic surgeon as quickly as women, for a lot of money. I don’t know why they do it. I don’t know why I thought about it once, but what I know is that their children don’t look like their children, which is happening to this world right now, that the children no longer resemble even a father. They don’t have his hair color. They don’t have botox injected into the skin and are perfectly arranged like porcelain teeth, according to a ruler. Whose children are they? I ask when I see them. On Instagram. Where are the times when our grandmother told us, you look just like your mother, or, you look just like your father. Those times are gone forever.  

And I’m no different.  

Yes, it’s me who wanted to give myself to the hands of a successful surgeon and have my breasts and abdomen improved, and when we’re at the abdomen, we’ll take the hips. Where would I end up with all the improvement if I overlooked the incomprehensible view of my future operator… I was ashamed. He said. He thought. Does she really want to look like a walking silicone bomb, as flat as a highway from Luzern to Zurich…? Is that really what makes her happy?  

And I’m different.  

And it’s me.  What I really need for my mind is to eat and be full of love. That the one who knows me may tell me that you are beautiful because you are kind, because you are wise because you are so beautifully imperfect. Because you wear glasses, because you have bitten nails on your hands while stressed from work because you have extra pounds because you have a dirty T-shirt and dress from the old collection and a tattered purse. And I will burst of happiness at that moment. And in the meantime, I will post on some dating platforms my selfie photos, which I took a hundred times.  

Someone once created a woman. And it wasn’t Michelangelo. And he was no plastic surgeon. It wasn’t even Coco. Karl didn’t make it either. I did it.

Pustila som sa do recenzie kontúrovacej starostlivosti o telo od Sisley z Paríža. Určite to funguje. Lebo verím Sisley. Verím a viem, že majú úžasné produkty, nepoznám všetky (zatiaľ), ale som presvedčená, že nad väčšinou z nich strávili roky, kým prišli s niečím inovatívnym a veľkolepým. Ktoré sa mnohokrát tvári tak nenápadne ako práve Le Sculpteur. Nebojíte sa ho vziať do ruky. Zamastiť, nebojíte sa, že spadne na zem a obije sa, nebojíte sa, že sa ho budete báť použiť, dotknúť, stlačiť bielu pumpičku, naniesť na ruku, privoňať a natrieť povedzme celé telo.  Mentolový obal je už na pohľad upokojujúci. A emulzia vonia ako prechádzka lesom. Takým tým naozajstným lesom. Žiadnym umelo vytvoreným parkom, ale lesom, kde ešte rastie cyprus a v drevenom prútenom piknikovom košíku si nesiete okrem iného levandulu a mandarínky a rozmarín a šalviu a majoránku a niekde tam, si urobíte piknik a levanduľu dáte na červenobielu kockovanú deku do porcelánovej vázy a mandarinky do malého prúteného košíka, takého, čo dnes nájdete už len na blšom trhu. Ľahnete si na tú červenobielu kockovanú deku a poležiačky budete pozorovať oblaky, ktoré majú raz tvar draka, iné zas prasiatka Gastona. Toho, čo tak zbožňuje chutné a voňavé hľuzovky a jeho majiteľ má teraz veľké pre so svojím susedom, pretože mu ich Gaston všetky vyjedol. Gaston, Gaston.  V lese nie je vôbec ticho ako by ste si mysleli. Je to tam ako na diaľnici plnej chrobákov a spolupracujúcich mravcov. Všetci sa niekam ženú a opravujú a stavajú a potajomky vám ujedajú z vašeho chutného koláčika, akoby boli na teraske v Halle5. Lezú po mandarinkách a schovávajú sa pod listami šalvie. Do toho vám zvedaví vtáci preletia ponad hlavou, tvária sa, že letia len tak mimochodom, ale pravý dôvod je ten, aby omrkli, čo máte na tanieri a či ste priniesli aj niečo pre nich. Šumí tam vietor a hovorí to svoje šu-šu-šu-šuštím a letím ti do vlasov a do ušššší a mach je zelený, vyšívaný jemnými kvetami a mäkší a drahší, než perský koberec.  Pustila som sa do recenzie kontúrovacej starostlivosti a zobudila som sa na zelenom machu.  Emulzia nebude fungovať, ak sa z jednej strany budete ládovať nutellou (ako ja) a z druhej strany emulziou Le Scultpeur. Nikdy. Pravda je, že by ste sa mali zdravo stravovať tak či tak. S mliekom, či bez. Netrápiť telo hladovkou, piť veľa veľa veľa tekutín. Mám na mysli vodu a čaje. To určite všetko viete a počuli ste to nespočetnekrát. Nie víno milé dámy. I keď pri predstave bieleho vína v krištáľovom pohári na stopke, vane plnej peny, aromatickej upokojujúcej sviečky a to všetko zavŕšim to touto emulziou, mi je akosi dobre.  

Emulzia nelepí a okamžite sa vstrebáva do pokožky. Nemusíte sa báť ani hodvábnej blúzky. Alebo ak beháte rady v horúcich letných mesiacoch po byte v saténovom župane a máte k tomu aj závesy, ako už konečne aj ja, urobte tak. Ak nemáte závesy, máte určite žalúzie. Lebo zvedaví susedia nikdy nespia. Nikdy. A sú prilepení na vašom župane deň a noc. A sú aj takí, čo majú ďalekohľad. A poznajú všetky vaše znamienka a faldíky, keď župan spadne na zem. To vám garantujem.  Fitko sú stress a nervy, ťažká drina a pot. Nič pre mňa. A jedno bez druhého akosi nejde. Preto vyvinuli v Sisley v Paríži Le Sculpteur. Nebude za vás cvičiť, nezaplatí za vás vstupenku di fitka a nenarastú vám svaly ako Schwarzenegrovi. Ale vaša pokožka bude pevnejšia, hladšia, jemnejšia.  Prvé výsledky uvidíte po 14. dňoch. Najhoršie je čakanie. Ešte horšie je čakanie bez Nutelly. Čakanie vám určite spríjemní prenádherná vôňa emulzie. Pozor, je návyková.  

Veľmi by som chcela vedieť ako vyzerá šťastie takej ženy, ktorá sa pozrie na svoje telo a povie, som krásna, lebo som (konečne) krásna. Ten pocit zadosťučinenia za dobre odvedenú prácu by určite chceli mať v Sisley v Paríži. Určite im napíšte, ak ste si tým testovaním prešli. Aj ak nie. Ale chceli by ste. A prečo by ste chceli a prečo nie. A čo by mali vylepšiť a kde by mali pridať a kde ubrať. Len mi nešahajte na cyprus. Prosím. A na môj mechový koberec.  

Verím, že sa nevedeli dočkať toho momentu, keď emulziu niekto ako aj ja na vlastnej koži vyskúša a povie, že  

ktosi raz stvoril ženu. A nebol to Michelangelo. A nebol to žiadny plastický chirurg. Ani Coco to nebola. Ani Karlovi sa to nepodarilo.  Dlho predlho nebolo nič a bol kľud. Až kým neprišiel niekto s tým skvelým nápadom a vyrobil zrkadlo. Hneď potom akoby sa zbláznil svet a ľudia sa konečne mali možnosť vidieť na vlastné oči a porovnávať sa s ostatnými a ktosi s veľkými ústami povedal, ja som krajší než ty. Svet sa jednoducho zbláznil. Dovtedy si ľudia hľadeli len do očí. So zrkadlom sa svet otočil a prišla sebaláska a nenávisť. K sestre, priateľke a hlavne k sebe.  

A ja nie som iná.  

Čo sa to deje s týmto svetom a čo sa to deje so mnou. Na krku mám prvú zošúverenú pokožku. A nie sú to vrásky zo starostí a detí a nie sú to prebdené noci nad bolesťou niekoho blízkeho a nie sú to vrásky na rukách od ťažkej práce a nie sú to vrásky od smiechu. Môj život bol prázdny. Nechávam si svoje vrásky na tie dlhé chvíle, ktoré ešte len prídu. A ktoré ma poznačia. Naveky. Nechcem, aby o mne raz ľudia hovorili, ona mala bezstarostný život. Lebo bezstarostný život nie je dokonalý. Ani pekný. Akoby ani nebol. Nie je dokonalá, ale je krásna. Chcem aby si to niekto pomyslel. Niekto, kto si prečíta tento post, niekto kto ma stretne vo dverách, niekto, kto prejde len tak okolo. Stačilo by, aby si to len pomyslel, ale pekne nahlas.  A ľudia zatiaľ prechádzajú mojim životom len tak mimochodom a lichotia mi topánky a prefarbené vlasy a dokonalé linky a to všetko má hodnotu nula.  

Vždy je čo vylepšovať tvrdia vzdelané ženy a múdri muži im pritakávajú, tí muži ktorí sa vrhnú rovnako rýchlo pod nôž plastického chirurga ako ženy, za nemálo peňazí. Neviem, prečo to robia, neviem, prečo som nad tým uvažovala raz aj ja, ale čo viem je, že ich deti nevyzerajú ako ich deti. Čo sa to deje s týmto svetom, že sa už nepodobajú ani na otca. Nemajú jeho farbu vlasov, nemajú botox a dokonale zoradené ako podľa pravítka porcelánové zuby. Čie sú to deti? Pýtam sa, keď ich vidím. Na instagrame. Kde sú tie časy, keď nám starké hovorili, ty si celá mama, ty si celý otec. Tie časy sú nenávratne preč.  

A ja nie som iná.  

Áno som to ja, ktorá sa chcela oddať úspešnému chirurgovi a nechať si vylepšiť prsia a brucho a keď už sme pri bruchu, tak rovno vezmeme aj boky a ktovie, kde by som skončila s tým celým vylepšovaním, keby som nepostrehla ten nechápavý pohľad môjho budúceho operatéra… Hanbila som sa. Vravel. Pomyslel si. To chce naozaj vyzerať ako chodiaca silikónová nálož, plochá ako diaľnica z Lucernu do Zurichu…? Je to naozaj to, čo ju urobí šťastnou?  

A ja som iná.  

A som to ja.  Čo naozaj potrebujem je, aby moja myseľ jedla a bola plná lásky. Aby mi ten, kto má pozná povedal, si krásna, lebo si milá, lebo si múdra, lebo si tak krásne nedokonalá, lebo nosíš okuliare, lebo máš obhrýzené nechty na rukách od stresu z práce, lebo máš kilá navyše, lebo máš ufúľané tričko a šaty zo starej kolekcie a zodretú kabelku. A ja prasknem v tom momente od šťastia. A zatiaľ budem postovať na Badoo svoje selfie fotky, ktoré som fotila na stýkrát.  

Ktosi raz stvoril ženu. A nebol to Michelangelo. A nebol to žiadny plastický chirurg. Ani Coco to nebola. Ani Karlovi sa to nepodarilo. Podarilo sa to mne.