My Holiday Blueprint

The celebration of life—Sweet Baby Jesus, crisp, cold air, hot cocoa, giving, and Home Alone—Christmas joy is here! I usually decorate my tree on Thanksgiving, but this year, I was bursting with Christmas cheer and couldn't wait, so I started decorating right after Halloween. Here are some of my traditions that make my favorite time of year extra special.

The Decor
Black is my favorite color, so I decided on an achromatic design again—LOL. Each year, I add extra ornaments, and this time, I found velvet matte black ones. One word… chic. My tree is filled with ornaments in hues of white, silver, grey, and black, with textures of glitter, velvet, and shiny ridges and bumps. There's a mix of satin, silk, and sheer ribbon draped and tucked. Finally, white lights twinkle through the night, making all things bright, and the Oreo candy canes make it oh, so sweet!

My happy place!

Hot chocolate is my absolute fave!

The Bar
The Hot Cocoa Bar, that is, is filled with rich cocoa packets, marshmallows, cinnamon sticks, cookies, white chocolate, chocolate chips, and peppermint. I love topping it with whipped cream, a dash of nutmeg, and chocolate syrup. Toppings are kept in apothecary jars to add sophistication to the Christmas delight.

The Gifts
Although I'm not the best gift wrapper, I really wanted to give it my best shot. I chose a combo of matte black kraft paper, velvet and twine strings, and a wax seal. Though imperfect, the gifts were wrapped with lots of love.

Little Lady’s Workshop

I've been blessed with the opportunity to share knowledge with a group of educators and wanted to surprise them with a sweet gift before the holiday break. I decided on an inexpensive but thoughtful option... Tumbler Stuffers. Get it? Instead of stuffing stockings, I chose a practical holder that every teacher loves and filled it with treats. Their tumbler will include a pair of cozy socks, a hot cocoa packet, chopsticks, chopstick rest, Lindor chocolate, hair accessories, a teeny tiny 2025 calendar, and a candy cane. I plan to personalize cards with a sweet message sealed with wax.

Pasta is my favorite Christmas time meal.

The Dining
I chose black-on-black dinnerware to keep the aesthetic sleek, and I kept the menu simple yet delicious: citrus salad, vegetable lasagna, and Oreo ice cream. This year’s cocktail will feature the rich, fruity flavor of blackberry—a perfect sip to complement the festive vibes!

Something New
I'm excited to introduce my gangsta wRAPPER, Snoop on the Stoop! He's been the greatest little helper ever.

Snoop on the Stoop

Sending holiday love to all!

Happy Holidays!
Ro’s Little Lady

Just Be

I entered my new year of life gently, poetically even. I didn’t muster up a stringent new list of resolutions or burden myself with unrealistic and unattainable goals. Instead, I allowed myself to be, and that’s poetic enough. I nurtured myself with an incredible amount of love and grace. I didn’t deny myself anything, either. I indulged in all things-Michelin-starred, anger, contentment, Starbucks, African dishes, mushing, and the many little miracles I never wish to take for granted. The pure joy of counting blessings and practicing gratitude was at the forefront. If I desired two grande cups of Starbucks’ White-Hot Chocolate, which is undeniably delicious, within a two-hour span, I indulged. When my triggers began to fuel my mind with unpleasant thoughts and my heart with pure, unadulterated hatred for things of my past, I let it. Sometimes, deep anger lingered, too. I didn’t question it. I didn’t ask for it to leave. I let anger be. When I arrived at SASAA to enjoy an African meal, I couldn’t decide on a dish, so I ordered them all. It turned out to be one of the best culinary experiences of my life. I let myself and my imagination wander wholly, wild, and free. I spent my new year soaking up the warmth around firepits, meeting other black business owners around the world, and creating new memories with strangers.

The other night was so beautiful. I sat on my couch listening to Cleo Sol croon and watched trains go by. With a tingle in my belly and an inkling of joy, I laughed despite my salted cheekbones. I was checking my email using the search feature to confirm the contents of a previous purchase. Amidst the search, an old message popped up, and I began to reflect heavily on a past but relevantly painful moment and stained memory. I began to acknowledge my feelings, the sadness, and overwhelming grief I have felt for what seems like an eternity. I welcomed the unpleasant thoughts and feelings to stay. “Get comfortable; let me feel you.” I chuckled because I was experiencing a moment in which I was comfortable with being uncomfortable and sitting with my emotions. I’ve never been quite great with that. Moments later, I realized I’d moved on to more positive thoughts and big dreams. Is that growth, I feel? Is that a beam of light coming from a tunnel’s end? This grief and journey back to me has been tedious, tiring, and exhausting, but worth it. Thoughts of an end was satisfying enough, and I thanked God for sustaining me for so long. Trouble doesn’t always last. Sadness doesn’t always last. Depression won’t always last. When I look at the bigger picture, sometimes baffled as to how it serves my life’s purpose or why God allowed moments to happen, I tell myself this:

“I may not YET understand the perspective of painful experiences endured, but God is omnipotent, omnipresent, and a divine protector. What was meant for harm will always work out for my good. Despite my life’s desires, God’s plan is far greater and more fruitful than I could ever imagine. He has a plan of abundance for me.”

Trust that God has a plan for you if you’re in a bewildering state or a season of uncertainty. -Jeremiah 29:11.

I celebrate my imperfections, beautiful brokenness, caring heart, and zest to JUST BE ME-good, bad, indifferent, all purely and authentic. I am grateful for life, health, and strength. I’m thankful for my tribe-my protectors, my confidants, and those who keep my feet planted in pure love, wisdom, and authenticity.

That said, JUST BE. In my new year, I welcome softness and boldness in my beliefs and continue creating my safe space to thrive and live abundantly. Life is what you make it, and I want to live fully and free. 

 

Cheers to allowing yourself to just be, to allowing yourself to take up space, to allowing yourself to feel and act purely-no matter what! Happy New Year to ME!

Be,

Ro’s Little Lady

Good Grief + Self Care Su... No, EVERY DAY!


It’s been awhile. I’ve been… well, life-ing, loving, eating, napping, working, bossing up, growing and life-ing some more. Life is life and I consider it grand no matter what. Amid our Covid days, self care has become a top priority for me. Beyond a gym, I’m speaking of mental health here. I’ve intently introduced meditation into my daily routine to help me slow down and BREATHE, amongst other things. I’ve been grieving a lot and I don’t mean your typical grief. I’ve been facing broken parts of myself and doing the work. This has allowed me to stretch and grow in ways I’m still learning to accept and become comfortable. It’s literally good grief. Wait, what? Good grief?! I mean, though uncomfortable at times, I’m happy (and somewhat surprised) that I’m in a space in which I allow myself to explore my thoughts, deeply reflect, and “feel” things at the frequency and levels that I do. I face all the “feels” with an open heart and mind that it’s all temporary (especially the not so fun parts of life) and it’ll pass.

Therefore, I try best to remain present and grateful in all moments. I appreciate every small moment, every beautiful soul I encounter, and notice God’s blessings in the most subtle forms. It could be a butterfly or bird here, a wildflower there, or an unexpected kind gesture from a friend. That said, my broken parts do not define me. In fact, they’ve made me stronger. I’ve become stronger by learning to forgive, opening my heart to accepting differences, and practicing unconditional love, all which were difficult and mildly practiced before. Siri, play “It ain’t nothing to cut a b*tch off.” While I still strongly believe in protecting the very sacred space that is of me, I’ve learned to extend grace, a softness like never before.

Lately, I’ve been intentional about these things (forgiveness, unconditional love, openness) because these acts are forms of pure love and wholeness within oneself. Practicing these acts of love have been both beautiful and tantalizing. Brutal, yet rewarding. Revolting and liberating. Facing self is not easy but it is necessary and only YOU can heal yourself. Triggers from OUR (me, too) broken pieces only remind us of what needs to be healed and again, only WE can heal the brokenness, despite what we desire from others. Whether it’s safety, respect, love, security, or forgiveness, we must give those intangible things to ourselves first. That’s where Self Care EVERY DAY comes in. Here’s how I focus on self-care:

  1. Prayer & Meditation- I begin each day with prayer. Sometimes it’s a simple, “Thank you, God,” simply for being blessed with another day or specific prayers for myself and loved ones. I meditate for a few minutes each day, too. I’m no expert but you can find guided meditations on iTunes or YouTube. Truth be told, I’m still learning techniques but I’m mostly intentional about breathing deeply and gratefully.

  2. Seek a Professional- I am a proponent of seeking professional help when it comes to mental health. It doesn’t just mean you have a problem. It’s actually really healthy to have consistent access to neutral guidance and one who can help you see various prospectives when your judgement is limited or cloudy. Be sure that you and your therapist are a good fit. Everyone has different methods and styles. Make sure your needs are met as a client.

  3. Flowers- I LOVE flowers! My favorites are peonies but I appreciate all the blooms even the wild ones.

  4. Homemade Skincare- I enjoy making creams and scrubs. The process of creating different recipes is more soothing and exciting than actually using them. LOL. Check out my body whip recipe here.

  5. Rose Baths & Bath Bombs- I love LUSH bath bombs! Long baths are soothing… add petals, music, a glass of wine, fruit, and it become heavenly.

  6. Toni Harper’s 50s Jazz, Outkast, & Maverick City Music- Music makes me so happy!

  7. Most importantly, surround yourself with those who lift you higher. Life is extremely short and your tribe impacts your vibe. Make sure you’re surrounded by people with pure hearts who want the absolute best for you. I’m so grateful for genuine loved ones in my life, especially Queens who adjust my crown when needed.

Take care,

Ro’s Little Lady

Beats Blasting: Maverick City Music

I love pure worship. Unscripted. Unrehearsed. Organic. Simply pure. The kind of worship that gives me chills or helps me feel God’s presence near. I’ve found this and so much more while listening to the soulful sounds of Maverick City Music. MCM recently earned a Stellar for New Artist of the Year and it is much deserved. They have produced and released amazing songs over the past year. Listen up to some of my favorite worship tunes.

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Stranger Things: Woman to Woman

A flower does not think of competing to the flower next to it, it just blooms.
— Zen Shin

Strolling on Instagram and immediately taken aback, I read, "I do not support ALL women." As I continued reading, "because some of you are bothered by the very existence of other women, and that's weird to me," I did a cartwheel while liking the post. Well, not really, but this statement resonated with me so much because it's SO TRUE. I will NEVER seek to understand or support any woman who seeks to dim the light of another woman, cause discomfort, or shift any negativity towards her for any reason. No amount of insecurity, jealously, or perceived threat one creates could ever validate a woman mistreating another woman simply for existing. My first encounter of betrayal from another woman was that of my stepmother. Not only did she knowingly sleep with a married man with three children, but she was intentionally vile.

I looked forward to weekends and spending time with my dad, but it came with a price. Discomfort, hearing mean comments about my mother, and questioning my dad about my mother's use of his credit card to meet my basic needs, out of complete jealousy, are just the tip of the iceberg. She would purposely buy fewer gifts for me during Christmases than her children, then seemingly enjoy me squirm in sadness and discomfort while making yet more vile comments. Mimi, her grandmother, once blurted out that I needed to go home if I would act like that. I was unsure what my stepmother had told her family. Still, Mimi was referring to me being a shy child who'd much rather spend a bit of time alone while, whom I considered, three mean ladies prepare a meal for the family. I was a child who couldn't help, wasn't asked to help, but my existence bothered her, and she wanted me home. She referred to a moment when I laid on my dad's pillow while watching my favorite movie, The Color Purple, as one that I needed to go home.

I loved Daddy's scent, and his pillow was my safe space while he worked in his woodshop or cut the grass. On my actual birthday, she purposely did nothing to celebrate and asked after seeing my disappointment, "What do you want us to do, bake a cake and eat it?" I just wanted the same care she would give her children. I was a very young and reserved child who could not understand why an adult who was supposed to protect me didn't. I remember doing so much in hopes that she'd eventually like and accept me. She never did. My dad yelled at her once while trying to protect me. Finally, I grew tired of visiting my dad at a cost. I stopped visiting. I've grown, I've forgiven, but I remember it all. I haven't spoken to her much in my adult years. The last time she communicated with me was when she offered condolences after my mother's death, the very woman she disrespected most of my life. No matter the evil she meant towards my mother, it could never stop by dad from communicating with her or even proclaiming her as his best friend. For divorcees, my parents communicated better than most and remained friends until my mother’s transition. She didn't have to manipulate, devise plans, or practice deceit to get my dad's attention. Her gentle and genuine spirit commanded it. My stepmother always had a level of insecurity because she entered the relationship with my dad by cheating. She eventually left my dad after thirty-plus years for whatever reason.

My mother was a "turn the other cheek" type of woman. She was strong, kind, giving, and slow to anger. Even amid anger or adversity, she meant well and would deliver her message sternly but with care. She meant what she said but always intended the absolute best for anyone she encountered with her servant's heart. She did not mistreat my stepmother's children, my younger siblings. She did not degrade other women or feel threatened by another woman's presence and existence. She showed me proper examples of sisterhood and was surrounded by women who would uplift each other, talk on the phone for hours, laugh hysterically over nonsense, or pray for one another. They would share recipes, support, albeit a hospital visit, small business venture, a shoulder to cry or laugh on or show up at the drop of a hat. If there were ever any issues, they would communicate wholeheartedly, woman to woman. This is the level of respect and sisterhood that I'm used to, and anything less is unacceptable and intolerable in my life. I'm very discerning when people don't mean well to me. While I try not to allow my stepmother's abuse to guide my decision-making, one can not ignore when a woman shows similar patterns with an intent to disrupt my peace in any way. I've had women (sadly, mostly black women) openly disrespect or attempt to sabotage my healthy relationships due to their insecurities and jealousy. I've experienced malice, deceit, or women being intrusive with malintent. It's venomous, disheartening, and unnecessary drama. I'm not built that way and enjoy the genuine sisterhoods I've created with the beautiful women in my life.

Woman to woman, if you're the kind of woman who seeks to dim the light of others, DO better. Suppose you're a woman finding herself feeling threatened and insecure to the verge of disrespecting, sabotaging, and hurting other women to feel good within yourself. In that case, it's time for soul searching and change. Speak positive words to yourself, about yourself, and others. Surround yourself with other women who won't accept such toxic behavior that is demeaning or degrading to other women. HEAL and vibrate higher. Celebrate that another woman is happy, has success, and is living a great life. What do you want for her, hurt and struggle? That's weird, sis. Another woman's good fortune does not take away from your own. When you look at another woman and see integrity, joy, peace, or strength, don't interrupt that because you have no idea what it has taken for her to possess those qualities. Stop subjecting other women to mistreatment and forms of abuse because you can't see your light. You're beautiful too, sis. You're a prize, too. You're strong, too. You're grand, too. You're a badass, too, sis. Real women fix crowns while helping other women grow and glow. Start glowing and help other women glow. Guess what? It makes us ALL LIT.

Glow up a little higher, sis.

Ro's Little Lady

Gratitude Challenge

I strive to live each day with a grateful heart. I thought it'll be fun to give thanks with intention during a month that’s full of thanksgiving. I created this random list in which I plan to reflect on what I feel thankful for each day. What are you grateful for?

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Blessings on blessings...

There aren’t enough words to describe God’s amazing love and grace. My life is a testament that God is real. He is so faithful. Trust him.

Beats Blasting: Oldie Goldies

Golden Oldies have found their way back to my ears and heart. I’m addicted to music, and oldies have been my choice of sound lately. I have fond memories of riding around town with my dad crooning soulful oldies. I was a mere six, singing tunes like The Commodores “Nightshift” or Greggory Abbott’s, “Shake You Down,” and Aretha Franklin’s “(You Make Me Feel Like) A Natural Woman.” I didn’t understand the meaning of what I was singing then, but the classic sound, piano riffs, perfect runs, live instruments, and spirited background vocalists made me move. There’s a feeling that good music gives me, and it’s inexpressible. I escape, I catch myself smiling, and occasionally feel an urge to google bass tabs to learn and play along. Lately, I’ve been listening to Toni Harper, Jackie Wilson, and Ruby and the Romantics. Here are some of my favorite oldie tracks. Listen up and enjoy them all.

Happy 1st Blogiversary!


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365 days, 12 blog posts, and a multitude of snapshots later, HAPPY 1st BLOGiversary to Little Lady Soul (Well, two days ago but still)! Thank you for your support and for taking the time to read my inner thoughts these past few months. Initially, my purpose for creating Little Lady Soul was to establish a safe space and creative outlet for myself. I did just that. I focused on authenticity rather than quantity or setting an unrealistic weekly writing goal for myself. I figured that would only populate my site with less meaningful content thus writing merely to achieve a deadline or goal. Nonetheless, I hope you’ve enjoyed the tidbits I’ve shared thus far. My most vulnerable pieces this year are entitled, Self Portrait: Woman in the Mirror and Tell the Truth: Tremendous Damage. These posts were scary but liberating to publish. Exposing oneself can be formidable but after pressing PUBLISH, I felt free. There’s nothing like taking control of your narrative and releasing it all to heal and potentially inspire others. I found courage while allowing my true being, my insecurities, and my struggles, be deeply seen. I acknowledged genuine despair and anguish during one of the most painful, confusing moments to date. In the end, there’s no shame in telling your truth and as beautiful as it can be, vulnerability fosters connection. It creates a sense of security that you’re not alone. Sonder... We all have vivid and complex stories to tell. We all have experiences that have shaped our being today. I’m happy to share my being with you.  Through my safe space, I’ve cultivated a habit of healthy reflection, bravery, vulnerability, and healing which is a personal process that I continue to improve. I’ve captured my appreciation for simplicity and how the simple things in life make me incredibly content. From my kitchen counter, Bali’s green lush, to the bird perched on the pole, I’ve shared my love of photography, cooking, and travel. I’m proud of my little blog. To celebrate, I feasted on a muffin that believed in miracles, a red velvet cupcake. Ha! Happy BirthYAY Little Lady Soul! The best is yet to come.

Simply Living, 

Ro’s Little Lady

Buon Appetito!

There’s nothing like a home-cooked meal and anyone who knows me, understands that I thoroughly enjoy cooking. I’ve been on a veggie kick on and off for the past three years. I’m back on my kick and one of my favorite veggie dishes lately is veggie lasagna. It’s super-fast and easy to make. To top it all off, this dish is incredibly delicious, and flavor-packed with different veggies! Some helpful tips are to prep all of your veggies first, use Kerrygold’s Irish Butter, and sprinkle Mrs. Dash generously. While I own more than 30 jars of seasonings, Mrs. Dash is a must. Anyway, check out and try my Little Lady Soul Lasagna recipe. I hope you love it as much as I do!

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Self Portrait: The Woman in the Mirror

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I stare in the mirror at a naked me. I look down and realize I haven’t seen my vagina without staring at it in a mirror or tugging my protruding belly upward and inward since my early adult years. It has been, literally, years and my gut also serves as a reminder to get a tummy tuck or a fat removal procedure of some sort, someday. I continue to try several weight loss schemes, only losing but quickly gaining my forty-four pounds back every time. I notice that each time during the gain, fat builds in different places than it had ever before. This time, my face remains slender and my cheekbones are still visible. But, I’m two hundred pounds, yet again. That’s a far fetch from the 118 pounds in that picture framed. The back reads, “12th-grade project on the beach.”  That black and white picture is one of my favorites. On the beach, I was care-free and skinny.

Beyond my protruding belly, I glance at my knees. Scarred and discolored, they cue memories of falls, mama coddling me at my every whimper during each incident of clumsiness, and the time I took out the trash containing piercing glass, unbeknownst to me. Blood gushed down below my knee and onward to my toes. I had two deep gashes and instead of Band-Aids, mama used gauzes and her nursing tape that day. I used to tear tiny strips of that tape and pretend they were my nail extensions. I would later study nail technology. Didn’t do much with that certificate, though.

My, the self-proclaimed manicurist’s hands are bone-dry, slightly pale compared to the natural golden brown they should be. My nails are fragile with overgrown cuticles. Each nail is uniquely shaped, some round and others squared, and my nail beds are completely flat, plain, and unpainted. Though my hands are averagely sized, my wrists are the same size they were in middle school, six inches around, slightly smaller than most women I know. My feet are still the same size, too, ugly as ever, even after a pedicure. I hate my feet and always have because I know that they could never look like the model’s feet featured in one of those magazines advertising the newest nail strengthening and super shiny lacquer that lasts more than 3 weeks. Even if I spend $8 on the polish and another $30 for one to paint the polish on, my feet will never look as appealing. I pretend to love them after each pedicure, though. I’ve just never been able to grasp the idea of fallen arches or the reasoning for my index toe being slightly longer than my big one. I always question, why me? Why, my feet? Why couldn’t I be blessed with normal feet and toes with my big toe being the longest and the others descending at a perfect 45-degree angle like most? The aesthetics of my feet feels like a curse more than genetics or what the bible says that I am, fearfully and wonderfully made. Fearfully, my feet, yes. Wonderfully, my feet, not so much. The corns on my fourth and little piggy toes became calloused from the cheaply made plastic shoes I swore I wouldn’t wear, again. But, they’re the only ones that matched my African garb at the time, and on that day, I needed those shoes more than my toes needed me. With my fit and flared custom-sized dress, adorned with African colors of turquoise and golden swirls, I had to make a fashion statement and worry about toes later. Two corns and a callous later, I really vow never to wear those toe crushers again.  My fourth toes on both feet are the real burden bearers as my middle toes lay directly on top of them, causing my nails to grow curved. I cringe. My feet need a miracle.

I continue to stare in the mirror at a naked me.  My breasts have lowered at least an inch or two, and the stretch marks have increased greatly since last year. After my weight loss, I noticed the droopiness and that my cup size reduced. My smooth areolas are still as big as ever. I secretly resent them because over time, they’ve made me feel less than a woman as my nipples rarely poke out or harden.

I look myself in the eyes. Skin tags line the left side of my neck and my diminishing brows need an arch. My skin’s texture is mostly smooth with a few bumps or acne spots, here and there. Stress has aged me quite a bit. My facial markings and lines are those of grief, anguish, and fake smiles. Others from loud laughter, expressions of pure joy, or my incessant resting bitch face.

Most days being aware of my greatest imperfections, I still think I’m beautiful, perfectly imperfectly becoming the woman I long to be.  One who is madly in love with her greatest flaws. One who’s deserving of the love she so freely gives and at best actually believes it. A woman of substance. A woman with a sincere heart. A woman full of passion. A woman full of life. A woman that’s simply beautiful. I stared in the mirror at an imperfect, naked me and mustered up a smile. I am perfectly me.

Merci

I miss the thrill and adventure of traveling. I took a solo trip to Paris last year and while most tourists were gallivanting about, I only desired solitude. I spent a lot of time in my super decked-out room, writing, watching international news, and ordering room service before actually exploring the ‘City of Light’. It was delightful. My room was entertaining enough as I stayed at 25hours Hotel Terminus Nord located across from the Gare de Nord Train Station. Eccentric, vibrant, and full of African vibes, I enjoyed waking up refreshed in my mini paradise to the tune of honking taxi horns and early risers. To add to my delight stood a Five Guys across from the hotel, where I would pick up lunch each day. During my days of exploration, I found a nail salon, visited the Louvre Museum, explored small shops, and had a photo shoot with a down-to-earth Japanese-Parisian. My favorite part of the trip was seeing Egyptian artifacts at The Louvre. Check out my captures. Thankful. Grateful. Blessed.

Reminiscing,

Ro’s Little Lady

Look up.

I was awakened by chorals of chirps. Camera in hand, I decided to take a short walk to possibly capture bird formations. Enjoying the crisp air and silence with sporadic intervals of chirping, I felt a sense of calm. I watched birds dancing while some rested on power lines. Then there was this one perched on the edge of a concrete pole simply looking up. Before it took flight, I was able to capture the moment. A simple splendor reminded me to NEVER stop looking up. No matter the season we may experience… uncertainty, hopelessness, heartbreak, or loss, God is faithful. God is near and he will never let us down. During this unfortunate time while we’re impacted by COVID-19 and personal challenges, look up. Surrounded by fear, death, and uncertainty, look up. Look up and know that God is greater and his faithfulness just as great. Godspeed.

Anchored,

Ro’s Little Lady

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Whip It Real Good!

My skin has been notoriously dry these days. I admit that I haven’t been consuming as many liquids as I probably should. So, to combat my self-diagnosed dehydration, I’ve been infusing my water with various fruits and creating organic skincare products to help stay extra moisturized. My first attempt at making a concoction of goodness was a success. I created a gentle scrub using brown sugar and Palmer’s Moisturizing Body Oil. I added a hint of coconut and tea tree oils and I’ve been silky-smooth since! My next feat was to create a whipped body butter that wasn't too greasy yet rich enough to quench my skin’s thirst. I used all-natural products such as The Body Shop’s, Tea Tree Oil, safflower oil, coconut oil, shea butter, and vitamin E oil. My first batch wasn’t consistent with a whipped butter but after adding a little bit more product and whipping the ingredients longer, the consistency improved to a creamy, whipped moisturizer. Want to make your own whipped body butter? Follow the following easy steps.

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