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I've thought about starting a support group for the ashy community. We could call it "Ashy Anonymous" or something. Picture the scene: a circle of people passing around lotion, sharing their struggles. "Hi, I'm Dave, and I've been ashy for 27 years." We'd have a 12-step program. Step one: admit you're powerless over your ashiness. Step two: believe that a higher moisturizing power can restore you to smoothness. And step twelve: carry lotion, and when necessary, use it.
But let's be real, we'd probably spend most of the time debating the best lotion brands. "I'm a cocoa butter loyalist." "Well, I swear by shea butter." And then there's that one person who insists coconut oil is the answer to everything. Dude, I don't need my skin smelling like a tropical vacation; I just want it not to look like I've been rolling in chalk!
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You ever been told, "You so ashy!" Like, is that really necessary information? It's not like I'm walking around thinking, "Man, I feel great today, but you know what would make it better? A little more ash!" I don't need the reminder! It's like the world's most unsolicited skincare advice. And the worst part is, it always happens at the most inconvenient times. I could be at a job interview, trying to make a good impression, and someone's like, "Hey, you so ashy!" Well, there goes that promotion. I'm not getting hired with the Sahara Desert on my elbows!
I've started carrying lotion with me everywhere, like a secret agent with a mission to defeat the evil Ash Monster. But let's be real, sometimes I forget, and that's when the Ashy Police show up. "Excuse me, sir, do you have a moment to talk about our lord and savior, Moisturizer?
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I imagine a world where ashy people rise up and take over. The Ashy Apocalypse! We'd form alliances based on our preferred lotion scents and battle the non-ashy folks. It's like a scene from a dystopian movie, but instead of fighting over scarce resources, it's all about who's got the best moisturizing game. Picture it: I'm the leader of the Ashy Resistance, rallying my troops. "Today, we moisturize! Tomorrow, we conquer!" Our battle cry? "No ash, no peace!" We'd march through the streets, armed with giant bottles of lotion, leaving a trail of smooth skin in our wake.
And as we take over, we'd implement a strict skincare regimen for all. Public moisturizing stations on every corner, mandatory lotion breaks at work, and a national anthem that's just the sound of a lotion pump. The Ashy Apocalypse, where the only thing falling is flakes of old, dead skin!
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Being ashy is like falling down a rabbit hole into an alternate universe called "Ashy in Wonderland." It's a place where no matter how much lotion you use, your skin just keeps thirstier than a marathon runner in a desert. I tried every lotion on the market. I've got bottles with promises like "24-hour hydration" and "ultra-moisturizing." Yeah, right! After an hour, my skin's like, "Nice try, buddy, but we're still ashy up in here!"
I've even considered hiring a lotion sommelier. Imagine someone sniffing a bottle and saying, "Ah, yes, this one has subtle notes of shea butter with a hint of desperation." Maybe they could pair lotions with different outfits. "For a casual day, I recommend a light cocoa butter. But for a fancy event, you'll want the heavy-duty, no-ash-left-behind formula.
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