Superficial Vains

Erin: (Laying on Lisa’s table getting face lasered) “Ow. That fucking hurts. Are you about to start your period? Based on the joy you are eliciting from afflicting pain on my face, I can totally tell your progesterone levels are nonexistent.” 

 Lisa: “You know what hurts? When I tell you to quit picking your face and you keep doing it. In fact, my retinas are burning right now just looking at my ruined masterpiece.” (Angles laser)

Erin: (Zap) “Son of a Bitch. Dammit. Shit. Bitch. Mother fu-Oh, I forgot to tell you, we are getting anti-aging IV’s on Saturday!”

Lisa: (Zap. Zap) “Based on your breakout, it looks like you are already reverting to adolescence. Don’t worry though, they are just superficial.”

Lisa’s Version of Events

I picked Erin up from Starbucks, where she lives. I don’t usually “want” to get an IV unless I am in active labor or have eaten sushi from a strip mall (*also with Erin). We rolled up to this super chic IV place in a swanky part of town and were greeted by the second hottest dude I have ever seen (the first was the emergency room doctor who informed me I had gas, not appendicitis). I batted my eyes and casually purred, “I would just like something to reenergize me from all of the pilates and yoga I do. I am super flexible. Tee-hee.” 

I was pretty sure Hot Guy and I had established a soulful, fiery love connection and were going to end up entwined on a beach somewhere until Erin glanced up from the IV menu and said, “Oh, we definitely need two ‘Anti-Aging’ bags.” I glared at her. She then asked if they used “new needles because we don’t want AIDS” and requested we be seated as far away as possible from the people who were there for the flu because “that is just nasty.” Fantasy over. 

We were seated in cozy chairs with blankets, pursuing some health magazines when a nurse came over. She informed us she worked at a hospital emergency room and was an expert at administering IV’s. She quickly found the perfect vein on me. Unfortunately, the nurse claimed Erin had “superficial” veins and had to get poked twice. (BAM. That’s what she said.) I just laughed and laughed.

A few minutes later, some guy stumbled in and sat slouched over in a chair. Erin and I exchanged WTF glances. We happened to be there the morning after St. Patrick’s Day and obviously this ginger was out celebrating his heritage. However, based on his condition, I thought an IV seemed a little conservative. The dude needed a crash cart. But sure as shit, as soon as he was finished with his hangover bag, he skipped right on out with his IV punch card in hand. 

Erin’s Version of Events

Like usual, Lisa’s synopsis of events is somewhat skewed with the exception of the alcoholic redhead. That little leprechaun just came alive, clicked his heels and left to go buy a morning-after pill for whomever he hooked up with the night before. It was seriously the craziest thing I had ever seen. 

I had heard unnecessary IV’s were the newest rage and I wanted to see what the hype was. Of course I was going to bring Lisa. She is the only person I know who would actually go. Lisa will stop at nothing to be pretty, a quality I deeply admire in a person. 

I did get poked twice (heeeeey-oooooo) and was called “superficial” for the second time in one week. However, I knew when I took this job, it would require both mental and physical fortitude. And so here we are. Selflessly and courageously reviewing products, while sacrificing our bodies so that you know the truth. I am sure there will be some form of monument resurrected in our honor upon our untimely deaths by plastic surgery.

Lisa and I both agreed we felt absolutely no different when we left, except now our arms hurt and we had to pee. I planned on going home to nap after our taxing morning however, Mike called to tell me my kids were fighting. Lisa whipped the car over so we could get our nails done instead. 

We walked into the nail salon and because Lisa has the patience of an honest Mormon on her wedding night, she promptly ripped off her bandage. Blood started pouring out of her arm. I stood there frozen, laughing hysterically like I always do when I see someone bleeding. Everyone around us looked super grossed out. 

After Lisa manufactured a tourniquet out of the sleeve of her Lululemon jacket and received a blood transfusion, we settled back in our chairs. I had just arrived at the conclusion that the entire IV experience was totally stupid when out of nowhere my nail tech said, “You pretty enough to be stripper.” Lisa and I excitedly locked eyes. We decided to make appointments for the following week. 


You should definitely go get an IV if you are a hungover redhead or a stripper.

If you would like us to provide you with an honest review of your product, please feel free to contact us. Please note we do not review pyramid scheme products, as we are vehemently trying to create one of our own and this would be a conflict of interest. 


One of the newest rages in beauty and wellness is freezing your ass off in a -110° booth, otherwise known as Cryotherapy. The claims are endless; relief of joint pain and inflammation, recovery from sports injury, but, most importantly, it claims to burn 800 calories per session, promote collagen, and reduce signs of aging…so basically, make you pretty. And if standing in a freezer for three minutes can make us prettier, well that’s a no brainer.

Cryotherapy #1:

We chose a place that is set up like a spa and upon arrival were given nice robes, gloves, tube socks and rubber shoes. We went in the freezing chamber room together and took turns de-robing and stepping into a tight vessel-like machine. After taking my robe off (leaving hands and feet covered), cold air started to spray at me. Like rapidly. My first instinct was to cover my nipples, I suddenly questioned why they aren’t required to be protected. Seems like a super awkward emergency room visit. Nipple frost. I had a flashback to the time I was 23 and knew my appendix was bursting…. I went to the ER and was treated by the most gorgeous man I had ever seen. As the nurses were working to make me comfortable I dreamt about how the ER doctor was probably going to ask me out after he removed my appendix. But, that actually didn’t happen. He came in an hour later and gently informed me that my appendix was just fine. I had gas.  I don’t need a nipple incident on my medical record also.

Moving on——the cold blasting air was intense but bearable. During our sessions Taylor and I kept eye contact with each other to stay calm. For example, I asked the sweet room attendant if anyone ever dies doing Cryotherapy and she cheerfully replied without missing a beat, “Oh yeah. Of course.” Taylor assured me that it probably only happens in Europe. Copy that.

Between surviving and looking at Taylor, I also kept glancing at a digital three-minute timer on the wall wondering when the end was in sight, the attendant told me that the timer was actually wrong. I was 20 seconds ahead of it. Or maybe behind. I’m not sure if she was using this as a distraction or if it really was wrong, but being a control freak and not knowing may be how people actually die during Cryotherapy

Finally, the machine turned off and I felt amazing. Taylor and I were bragging that we both had easily made it the full three minutes until the girl informed us that it was actually two and a half minutes. That’s where everyone starts. At two and a half minutes. *eyeroll* Whatever. I chose not to remind her that the clock was actually wrong.

Anywho, My body felt back to normal immediately and I had a ton of energy all day. I was actually wired.

Cryotherapy #2:

I hopped into the machine like I’ve been doing this forever, like the cryo queen of sorts. Total badass. The second the air started spraying at me I. WANTED. TO. DIE.  The thrill from the first treatment had passed and today I had three FULL minutes and the clock was still wrong and I was almost panicking. My legs felt like needles were stabbing them and I couldn’t catch my breath. I decided this was the precise moment I was going to stop selling my soul for beauty blogs. (Don’t worry, the latter part passed very quickly). It took everything I had not to quit and, honestly I think my body was just in too much shock to ask to get out. So, like the first time. I held my nipples and prayed.

After I got out, I had a hard time warming up all day and really felt like an idiot for standing in a  -110° booth terrible.

We decided that after having very different experiences on each day, we had to go a third try before blogging our experiences fully.

Cryotherapy #3:

Really? Did you really think we were doing that again?

Next Saturday we have hot stone massages scheduled.




Disco Party

The Text Exchange

Lisa: Do you want to go to a Korean bathhouse in a really bad part of town with me tomorrow?

Erin: Okay.

Lisa: We have to be naked.

Erin: You are going to be jealous of my svelte vagina.

Lisa: I will pick you up at 11:00.

Erin: Bye.

Lisa’s Version of Events

I wanted to go to a Korean bathhouse so I could blog about it. I have a total domineering personality so, it was not terribly challenging for me to convince Erin to go. These bathhouses are all the rage in California. Erin is going to act like a whiney little bitch when she tells her side but, I honestly had no idea that the bathhouse we went to was a covert sex house. Swear. To. God.

When I was informed of this establishment, I was simply told to be open-minded. I understood we would be naked the entire time and that we would be receiving massages. What I did NOT know is we would be showering in a community shower equipped with bar soap that had suspicious hairs and by “suspicious hairs” I mean disturbingly long pubes. I also had no idea that we walked in on two chicks getting it on in the steam room. Helllll-lllllo, I would have knocked.

The massage was admittedly a little aggressive…. Ninjas were literally climbing on top of us, slapping our arms and legs. I also do not recall being told that the “community” loofah they used to exfoliate us, would enter EVERY part of my body. As an esthetician, I was fine with my ass but, I totally drew the line when they tried to scrub my flawless face. Eew.

I avoided making eye contact with Erin because I could feel her retinas burning holes in my skin and frankly, her negative energy was ruining my Zen. Instead, I stared at her lady bits, figuring I would make us both dermatologist appointments for the following day and a couples therapy session for Friday to make amends. Truthfully, I will probably never invite her again.

Erin’s Version of Events

Lisa failed to mention that she also coerced our yoga instructor, Jen, to come with us. It was Jen’s birthday and a “Happy Ending” in a dirty Korean bathhouse is always a neat gift. Additionally, after a long anxiety ridden month waiting for what was ultimately Lisa’s negative diagnose for M.S., we decided to celebrate by contracting a venereal disease. Annnnd this is why I selflessly decided to go…to support them. Everyone should be my friend.

After visiting the shower room, I decided Jenny McCarthy’s anti-vaccination campaign was much less offensive than Cameron Diaz’s recent plight to end bush trimming. I exited the 70‘s disco party to go check out the “majestic waterfall” that Lisa had been describing. I was preeeeetty sure the waterfall was just a stream of asbestos and black mold pouring out of dilapidated ceiling tiles but, I didn’t want to ruin the party so I just stayed quiet.

To take my mind off of the situation, I tried to count all the tattoos of dream catchers and wolves on women’s arms as we all soaked in a dirty hottub together but, I lost count after 9,972. I then watched in fascination as our boobies kept floating to the surface while everyone else’s plummeted under. Jen wasn’t really speaking to either of us at this point but, I figured it was because she was so relaxed. I was happy to see her enjoying herself on her special day.

During my massage, Lisa’s voyeuristic vagina watched me the ENTIRE time so, I was never able to fully relax. It didn’t help that my masseuse gave me a titty twister and kept slapping me in the head, with her stomach and boobs. Lisa “claims” I was angrily glaring at her. The truth was, I was completely void of feeling at this point.

Anywho, we are all almost finished taking our third round of broad-spectrum antibiotics, anti-fungals and anti-viral medications. Our next Girls’ Day is our blood draw at an infectious disease clinic in six months.

Lisa- Thank you for taking us from the confines of our gated community, if for no other reason than to remind us never to do it again.

P.S. Happy Birthday Jen. We hope it was all that you dreamed of and more.

XO, Lisa & Erin



A Hairy Situation



Erin: I have decided we are going to go get Brazilian waxes.

Lisa: Okay.

Erin: That went over better than I thought it would. You are drinking wine, watching Lifetime and not really listening to me aren’t you?

Lisa: What?

Lisa’s Version of Events

I am not a person who holds grudges. I would like to say this is because I am so spiritually evolved, but truthfully I just have the shittiest memory ever. So when Erin informed me that we were going to get Brazilian waxes, I just assumed she wanted to spend time with me like everyone else in the world does.

I pulled up to Erin’s house to pick her and her sweet, innocent sister (whom she also demanded be in attendance) up and watched with squinty eyes as she loaded a styrofoam cooler full of ice packs into my car. She then plucked a Bible out of a bag of stuff she was donating to Goodwill and tossed it on the seat. Her kids asked where we were going. Without missing a beat, she said, “We are going to go get our lips waxed.” I didn’t even get her joke until like twenty minutes later because I was so stressed out.

Erin insisted the wax place was not actually where map quest, their actual website and the latitude and longitude of a space satellite said it was located. The three of us got out and started wondering around looking for it. We saw a redheaded (AKA ginger- for those who prefer political correctness) guy with a really long beard walking around aimlessly. Obviously, he couldn’t find the place either. At this point, my anxiety was skyrocketing. I just needed someone to wax my butt so I could return to the familiar comforts of my home.

Eventually, Erin placed a phone call and laughed heartily when she discovered they had moved. Haha. Fucking hysterical. We walked into the salon and immediately my keen intuition suggested something was askew when Erin simply had to sign in, while her sister and I had to fill out two pages of paperwork and provide a blood sample. Omg, what a little hussy.

Erin’s waxer appeared, they linked arms and skipped back to her room. I, on the other hand, got the skittish waxer who legit tried to pawn me off on someone else once she realized we were bloggers. I spent thirty minutes comforting her while she ripped my pubes out with hot wax.

I was nearly incoherent from nauseating pain when it occurred to me that our precious Erin had methodically plotted her revenge for the time I accidentally took her to that nasty Korean bathhouse months ago. Or, maybe it was because I laughed hysterically when I learned she was the homecoming queen in high school…Whatever her motive, Psycho made her point.

Erin’s Correct Version of Events

First off, I politely informed my sister she was going to accompany us on said excursion. Her birthday is right before Lisa’s and I decided to kill two cats with one stone (or however that stupid saying goes.) I wanted to get them something they would remember, something that would remind them of me…an ass wax.

The Korean bathhouse was indeed traumatizing, but the psychotherapy and shock treatments I have been receiving are totally helping. Annnnd while I was homecoming queen in high school, it wasn’t as though I made a shadow box containing my tiara in memorandum of this momentous occasion. People probably assumed I was a stuck up little bitch when I ran off the football field in front of hundreds of people after I was crowned. In truth, this event served as foreshadowing to what would later be diagnosed as a “severe anxiety disorder.”

Second, I never claimed that I was a waxing virgin. I clearly hold my body to a higher standard and the ungodly sights at the Korean bathhouse only solidified this postulation. Maybe my vagina is calloused or maybe I just got lucky because my waxer was going through a divorce and channelled her frustrations onto my lady garden OR maybe I am just not a giant baby like Lisa is.

My sister walked into the lobby white as a sheet, mumbling incoherently, with a hollow look in her eyes after her appointment. Shit. I totally forgot to tell her if she didn’t leave a little landing strip/ Hitler stash, her lady parts would resemble a naked mole rat. I just knew she was sporting the mole rat.

Meanwhile, Lisa was not talking to me and intently studying the display of waxing products. She plucked out the most expensive cream they had, claimed her “waxer preferred this brand for a post wax” and plopped it on the counter with a smug look on her face. I narrowed my eyes at her uppity vagina and handed over my credit card.

We got in the car, shoved the ice packs down our pants and drove to Starbucks in total silence. I f’ing knew I should have given them Chipotle gift cards.







“Nobody Really Knows…….”

I’m a few minutes early to a meeting so I sit out front in my car. Don’t be nervous. Don’t be nervous. Eeeek, this totally feels like a first date. I finally walk to the door and am greeted by a totally normal suburban mom. She leads me to her kitchen table where I silently sit while she shuffles through papers clearly unprepared. Meanwhile, her dog is Losing. His. Mind. barking in the back yard. I have already decided that her neighbors hate her guts. As I sit, I glance down at a piece of paper with her bio on it. Interesting lady; ER nurse, massage therapist, birthday party face painter and today …… psychic. What? Like I’m going to let her paint my face? That would totally break me out.
She finally sits down and starts by informing me that I am an Aquarius, which is great news because every magazine has confirmed this for years. So I guess so far she’s legit. She then starts speaking in psychic gibberish about my 5th house being in retrograde with a Pisces sighting which only happens every twenty-three years. I obviously have no idea what any of this means so I just stared at her. Could it be true that the answers to my life are in her hands? She needs to translate her secret language. STAT. The suspense is killing me.
“SO what does all of that really mean? I’m not really current on my planets.” I tell her. She tells me I am coming out of a very stressful ten month mercury cycle. And that it must have been really, really rough. OH. MY. GAWD. THAT IS SO ME. She has tuned into me. How does she know this? Then I almost start to cry. This has just brought us together. Because she knows. I know she knows. We both just know. I instantly bond with her. I tell her this is so correct and ask if the cycle is over. She says, “Let me consult your numbers”, she grabs a thick book and starts shuffling through it. Forever. Does some math and says, “Oooooooh, hmmm…weeeellllllll, this is not good, OK, well this is interesting. You actually have a bit more coming. Looks like at least four months. BUT, then something really big and exciting will be launched! And it will be amazing.” I must have looked totally freaked out because she took off her readers, grabbed my hands and said, “The truth is, we don’t really know. Nobody really knows. Anything can happen.” OK, well I’m actually here because you are supposed to know.
Now I was bored. Our bond was over. She’s so negative. I wanted a Starbucks refresher, and a muzzle for her dog. She finishes the session telling me I am a free spirit abandoner; I lose interest in everything immediately. I believe she is saying this because she knows from the look in my eyes I broke up with her already about ten minutes ago. She tells me that I have a big successful project coming up, that I am very much like Princess Athena (I have no idea who she is but I get the princess thing and already like Athena) and I must be very careful in the next few months because she sees a sports-related injury. I make a mental note that I should probably stop skateboarding down my driveway hill barefoot with Blake. And then she looked at me and said “When you get home, check your water heater”. She then shuffled a deck of Tarot cards and told me to ask them a question silently. When she turned them over to read them she said, ‘Hmmm, it didn’t answer your question, Interesting.”
Alright I guess I should be going. Her husband is in the kitchen staring at us, the dog is STILL outback fully losing his mind. I have a headache and feel drained. I am not telling anyone about this meeting. So, you know, that lasted about two seconds until I basically told everybody I talked to. I realized how ridiculous all of this sounded. We all laughed the hardest about checking my water heater. And Thank Gawd I told EVERYBODY or NOBODY would believe this. I get up to shower Saturday and had Noooooooo water. Guess who was at my house this week? Swear. To. Gawd.

See you all later. I am going to hide for the next few months. Just kidding…I am going to change my planet rotation and make it AMAZING!  But first I am going to give the plumber the psychic’s phone number. They could totally help each other out. And remember nobody really knows but some, they just know.

Have an Amazing week!




Meet Lisa

You know the friends who tell you how good you look in your yoga pants with yesterday’s make-up on? That you still look good as a platinum blonde; that age doesn’t matter and your skin is glowing? Well, that is NOT ME. Hi, I’m Lisa. In my experience as a paramedical aesthetician, I’ve consulted countless women on the health of their skin and on the state of their lives. What I’ve discovered is, I have a lot to say. Since I’m also a mom, a doctor (regular listener of Dr. Radio), an expert yogi (I do yoga) and a trendsetter (everyone is drinking bone broth now), I can speak intelligently on a myriad of topics. When I don’t know what to say, I make something up. Either way, you’ll learn something.

I write down my sage advice in my blog. You’re here and I’m thrilled. Face It…and Other News intends to empower you with the facts, or at least the facts as I see them. Jennifer Aniston’s youthful glow is not a result of using Aveeno and drinking Smartwater, but rather injections and laser. Nerium is not about reversing the signs of aging, but about making someone else a lot of money. The Korean massage fad is awkward, don’t bother. I’ll turn my home, my family, my friends and myself into science experiments, all in the name of learning. I want you to benefit from what I learn. You can thank me later.

Your friends won’t always give you the guidance you need. They mean well, and they make up a community of successful, supportive women you’re lucky to have in your life.  Let them host your baby shower and come to your Stella and Dot parties (I don’t want to do that anyway). I’ll be here to tell it like it is. Face it….at your age you should tone down the blonde and a little make-up doesn’t hurt.   I can be brutally honest and tell you your face is hairy (it is by the way). I believe the truth is an agent of change and of growth.  I am deeply invested in my chosen career path and I think living is like the ultimate joke. If you’re open to hearing me out, I won’t disappoint. Welcome to my world.

XOXO, Lisa

Lisa H-2015 Blanc-0058.jpg



Nerium Gate…Still?

I can’t believe we are still talking about this product  (yawn)  but I was seriously asked again about this multi-level non-miricle, total crapola, face cream several times again last week.  So, here again are my thoughts on this scam product.  I was actually shocked because I thought it had somewhat died, but apparently a new group of reps made a new batch of kool-aid and are are hitting the streets hard—offering you a glass. So as requested by many of my patients, here are my thoughts.

In a world filled with hype and over-promise, here we go again….. many of us have heard of this multi-level company that has developed a patent pending miracle cream that is  “better than Botox – Botox in a bottle.”  In fact, using this cream for only 30 days will give you the same results as a face lift.  It will erase your wrinkles, age-spots and pay your mortgage if you harass, er um…I mean convince all of your family, friends, colleagues and random strangers on the street to join your team.  There are postings all over social media of side-by-side before and after pictures promoting this ‘miracle’ product, and the results depicted are nothing less than amazing.  If you were to believe your eyes, you would think that this magical elixir will erase twenty years in a matter of minutes.  I will break down what you need to know so that you are educated before you are contacted by your neighbor or someone you haven’t talked to in 13 years that suddenly finds you on Facebook and wants to buy you a cup of kool-aid   I mean coffee.

The fact is that 86% of people use skin care products that are not suited for their skin type.  In my consultations, a vast majority of women tell me they have ‘sensitive skin.’  It usually  turns out, their ‘sensitive’ skin is of  their own doing.  It really is imperative to have a consultation with a skin care professional who is trained in skin care to help you establish a regime and pick the proper products customized to your skin. One product does not work for everyone.  Now, let’s talk about buying skin care products from your multi-level-marketing friends.  Maybe there are a few of them who are trained in skin histology and have real skin care knowledge selling these products. However, the majority are trained only on a business model which employs the direct-sales marketing concept and don’t have a clue about realistic results with a topical or anything else about effective skin care.  In fact, on social media I have seen posts repeatedly that say, “Don’t have any interest in skin?  That’s ok!  You don’t need to. You will love the 6 figure salary pouring in while working from home being your own boss, in your pajamas! (Now the pajamas part does interest me)  Contact me today to see how I’ve done it.”

Besides having no genuine interest in actual skin health, these sales people do not mention that what they are selling are not medical grade products (which you wouldn’t assume by the price).  It’s important to note that even medical grade products could NOT deliver shown results.  These home based products are not controlled by the FDA so they are formulated in a way that does not allow for penetration beneath the surface layer of the skin.  They are OTC (over the counter) products and do not treat skin conditions that results in the obvious signs of aging (loss of collagen, reproduction of damaged skin which reproduces the same damaged skin after every surface skin layer is shed).  OTC products are, by definition, formulated to be used by anyone and everyone; as such, they contain only minute amounts of the active ingredients that actually treat, repair, and correct skin problems.

It is unfortunate because some of these companies have some really great products.  The disconnect is when you have sales people who are more focused on earning their Mercedes and trips to Tahiti than they are in changing your skin.  They become delusional about the results they are advertising.  These days people desperately want to look younger so these reps have a huge audience to capture. And many take advantage of that.  If someone still really believes in a multi level product enough to sell it they need to learn, what can this product realistically do?  What can it not do?  So far, looking at these pictures, I would say you have some really mis-informed or un-educated sales people thinking they are selling surgical procedures instead of skin care.  Or is it possible that one of the side-effects of their product is loss of integrity?

So if you are going to buy something from your neighbors it should be Girl Scout cookies; helping a girl earn her patch….now that’s legit!

Check out below the ridiculous before and after photos they promote;

Mary used her miracle cream for less than 10 days.  She no longer has a double chin!  The product very obviously also tightened muscles and miraculously removed all excess skin. FANTASTIC.

Not only does the hand on the right look 40 years younger, the muscle mass has doubled in size.  I think the person on the left is actually dead.. so she’s come back to life, time traveled four decades into the past and as a bonus it gave her a nice tan.

Now let’s break this down from the consumer side.  Do you look at those ads and really believe those pictures?  Really?  I asked a well-respected cosmetic surgeon in Denver his thoughts on these picture and on a cream achieving these results and this was his response, “I can get the exact same results using butterscotch pudding for her skin care regimen, if I alter the camera angle in the after pic, apply some make up, and take the before when she happens to look her worst and the after on a day that she is a bit swollen (or I could just use Photoshop and eat the pudding).”  I couldn’t have said it better.

Please don’t fall for these bogus ‘non-miracle’ creams.  There are NO miracle creams on the market.  If there were, I would obviously enroll all of my clients, set them up on auto ship and quit my job.  Lastly,  please remember that not everyone is in the skin care industry because they are educated or passionate about skin.  They are simply selling a product that has promised to make them a lot of money if they work the pyramid correctly.  They can earn cars, trips, etc.   These are the same people who will move-on in about a year to the newest, next best thing and then sell you that.

I am in a tight spot posting this blog because I personally know people selling this product and promoting it on their Facebook.  Pretty sure I will quickly be deleted  from their social media after this post.  However, my commitment is to you, my client.  You have trusted me with your skin, and I take that very seriously.  My job is to keep you educated and informed, and I will never compromise that, even if it means challenging people I personally know.

As always, call or message me if you have further questions about this topic.  Unless you sell Nerium–then you probably shouldn’t call me.  And step away from the kool-aid stand.