I loved my childhood.  I didn’t know that my parents had a strict budget or that other kids did more things than my family did.  I just remember playing and running and laughing.  I remember swimming lessons in cool blue California pools and cold, muddy ocean tributaries in New Hampshire.  I remember sliding down California hills of slippery pickle-weed and icy sledding hills in New Hampshire and then in Rhode Island.  I remember driving my grandfather’s tractor (or sitting on his lap as he made me think I was driving) and picking strawberries as big as my fist with my grandmother on their farm in Michigan.  I remember staying with my other grandmother in Boston for a couple of weeks each summer, with my cousin and cohort Debbie… figuring out the “lines” of the subway system and wandering way farther from Nana’s than we should have.  Always outside.

I remember being outside.  Riding my bicycle.  Roller skating.  Jumping rope.  Pogo-sticking.  Playing baseball in vacant lots.  Shooting hoops.  Sneaking into back yard pools in North Hampton, NH after a day at the ocean.  Ice-skating.  Hockey.  I remember days and days and days of ocean play, both Pacific & Atlantic.  I remember Lake Michigan.  I remember traveling with my Dad, a Navy man, from coast-to-coast and in-between… fighting with my two brothers in the car over things like who sits where and who touched who and who got the biggest apple or orange or whatever my Mom tossed to us to keep us quiet.  Didn’t work, Mom! I remember the windows wide open and fresh air that changed so dramatically from state to state of this glorious country.

My childhood was simple.  And PURE.

My earliest memories, too, are of watching my Mom, my beautiful Mom, getting ready in the morning… or even better, heading out on a date with my Dad.  My Dad was out-to-sea for months at a time, so it was always a time of celebration when my Dad was home.  I vividly remember my Mom’s shelf in our medicine cabinet, as we called it.  Wherever we lived, my Mom had a special shelf that held all her treasures… red lipstick, rouge and face cream.  Simple.  Pure. She would dab me with her face cream and touch my cheeks and lips with hints of color.  These moments are locked in my mind with golden keys.

All this time, what I didn’t know way back then was that every moment outside was taking a little something from my skin.  We had suntan lotions and all that… but nothing that prevented sun damage.  Then, of course, my teenage years arrived.  Oh, boy.  Yep.  Boys. Tanning.  Hours and hours at the ocean.  Skimpy bikinis.  Lots of exposed skin.  Every weekend.  Hours in the back yard with aluminum foil… to further attract the rays of the sun.  And boys. What seemed simple was simple insunity, as I’ve come to call it.

The damage had been done.  I remember the first time I looked in a mirror and saw lines that didn’t look familiar.  I was at a make-up counter at Filene’s… buying something that I’m sure would make me look lovely… when one of those raw, holy-mackerel moments happened in one of those super magnified make-up counter mirrors.  I was married by then, and my two little girls, Audrey and Jane, were running around and crawling under the counter and begging me to hurry up. I couldn’t take my eyes off that face in the mirror.  I bought the mascara or lipstick or whatever I thought I needed… and wondered what had happened to my youthful face.  Yes, my husband and I had four kids by then.  We did lots of things as a family.  Outside.  We skied.  We ice skated.  Pools and oceans.  Travel.  We attended every single baseball, softball, soccer and field hockey game.  Every track meet.  Every swim meet.  Outside. The years had crept in when I wasn’t looking.  I hadn’t the time to look.

I returned to that make-up counter soon after, without the girls, and asked the make-up lady what I needed… and it seems I needed a lot.  Serums.  Day & Night.  Creams & Lotions & Moisturizers.  Day & Night.  Foundations & Concealers & Eye Repairs.  Day & Night.  I almost had to remortgage my home to pay for all this stuff.  I never read the labels or questioned much.  I just thought I need help! I used various products for years and years… some stuff worked better than others, some stuff was more expensive than others and some stuff made my skin blotchy and all-over yucky.  I began to use intensive sunblocks, but I could never bring myself to stay INSIDE.   That little girl turned teenager turned Mom turned Grandma still had a lot of outside miles left in her.

I now have 9 grandchildren.  They’re outside kinds of kids.  I want to be with them and attend all of their activities, and I’m willing to make modest changes (like hats and sunglasses and cover-ups) to protect my skin.  Although I appreciate the beauty refinement of plastic surgery and any of the age-defying treatments/procedures available, they are just not for me.  Then, two years ago, I began a running program for the first time in my life.  Outside. Of course.  I challenged myself to a 5k… and progressed to a 5-miler, a 10k, a Half Marathon, a Half Ironman, and I’m now training for a Full Marathon.  That’s a lotta time outside.  Swimming.  Cycling.  Running.  I need to be comfortable in my skin and with my skin care regimen… because it doesn’t seem like this gal is heading inside anytime soon.

When I heard about Puristics, I was intrigued. First, I’m very careful about what I put inside my body. I am a food-label-reader extraordinaire.  I care about what fabrics I want against my body while training or completing.  I am careful about products I use in my home.  It made such perfect sense to be vigilant about what I put on my body. Puristics has all the answers for me.  No chemicals or irritants. Puristics.com even encourages us to go to its website to see for ourselves. I did. And I’ve tried each Puristics Anti-Aging product.  I love each one. Repeat:  I love each one. Simple and Pure.  It just feels right. It feels right and it feels beautiful.

I know I’ll never look 25 again.  (Ah, heck, I’ll never look 50 again!)  But I don’t want to.  I like me.  I like where my face has been.  I like where it’s going.  I like looking like a Grandma.  I just like looking like a fresh, feisty, healthy, radiant Grandma!  I love Puristics for taking me there. I wouldn’t say it or write it if I didn’t mean it. And you know what?  I love now as much as I loved my childhood.  Now that’s something!

I’ve returned to simple and PURE.  Just a whole lot smarter.

We at Mom Generations are honored to be spokespeople for Puristics. This is a sponsored post; however, all opinions are mine and I stand by them!