Sunday, October 4, 2009

On TRYING NEW THINGS

My Best Friend's Wedding (HEYO) is rapidly approaching, and as I was starting to pack my shiz for VEGAS, Y'ALL, I decided I should probably try on my Honorable Woman dress and stuff.

I know it's October, so it's spooky time and all, but NO ONE WOULD APPRECIATE my ghostly legs. My legs were so pale, you could see the spider veins (HEYO! TWO HALLOWEEN REFERENCES IN TWO SENTENCES!). Ok, ok, even when I'm "tan," you can still see my spider veins. It's been this way since I was seventeen, guys, I'm not THAT old, so give me and my elderly legs a break.

Anyway, sporting the Snow White look with my dark purple Honorable Woman dress was clearly not the way to go, so I decided to do something drastic. This was no time for me to fuss around with streaky-ass orangey self-tanners, so I , um, called up a salon and scheduled AN AIRBRUSH TANNING APPOINTMENT!

My mind was ALIVE! What sort of mystical wonders awaited me in the basement "spa" area once I entered? Would my "technician" (and yes, she was classified as an "airbrush technician" on the business card she handed me) approach with some tubey-looking thing with a spray can of terrifyingly dark potion attached at the back and hose my legs down like I was at a car wash?

Well, actually, yes.

But it was all good! Because, as Vee said, amazed, when I returned home, "I looked healthy for a change."

Guys, I always take issue with a tan making you look "healthy," because DUDES, WHAT IS HEALTHY ABOUT A LAYER OF YOUR SKIN GETTING RADIATION EXPOSURE? What is healthy about DAMAGED SKIN?

But I was so joyous that I no longer had pale skin that I didn't care!

Buoyed by the success of my faux tan, I struck out for bolder territory: the local consignment sale. This joint hosts consignment sales several times a year, and since Saturday was HALF-PRICE DAY, I was like "YES!" since Kiddo is finally in her growth spurt and sizing out of her footie jammies. The Kid doesn't sleep under her covers (she sleeps like an ostrich with its head in the sand. Except there is no sand. So she kind of looks like a pillbug) and fall is HERE, so I needed to get her some roasty toasty jams.

The sale opened at 11:00am, so I figured I was in GOOD SHAPE arriving at 11:40. You know, early enough to beat those sleepy suckers who were lazing around until post-lunch on Saturday before entering the rest of the world, but late enough to miss the insaniacs who camp out, CONVINCED that there must be a cadre of clothes-with-tags-still-on-them (which THERE NEVER ARE, GUYS. THERE NEVER ARE.).

11:40. There's a line stretching around the building, and I think, "Hmmm, these must be the moms waiting to pick up their consigned clothes that they don't want to go half-price (because you do have this option)."

No. IT'S A LINE TO GET IN.

I was so astonished by the situation that I had no recourse but to get in line. I mean, GEEZ, everyone else was waiting. What sort of experience were they about to have without me?

So I wait. And wait. And we're shuffling forward every three minutes or so, enviously watching the women streaming out with rocking horses tucked under their arms and six-year-olds carrying the rest of Mommy's CHERRY scores, but we're not really getting anywhere. We watched moms FURTHER UP IN THE LINE peel off like fallen soldiers as we rounded the corner of the building and saw that the line extended for AT LEAST FIFTY MORE PEOPLE.

As it started raining, I felt really grateful that I didn't have the Kid with me. There was a mom in front of me with a little boy right about Kiddo's age, and a grandma behind me who clearly didn't think we'd be waiting as long as we were, based on her lack of A COAT. I asked Grandma what time it was, and when she revealed that WE HAD BEEN STANDING IN LINE FOR FORTY-FIVE MINUTES, I announced, "NO WAY am I waiting for AT LEAST another 45 minutes to buy USED CLOTHING for half-off! I mean, think about THE LINES TO CHECK OUT! I'M NOT WAITING THAT LONG TO PAY $3 FOR A USED SLEEPER!" and marched off to my car.

MAN, DID I TELL THEM OR WHAT?!

LESSON TAUGHT, Y'ALL! TEACHER IS IN THE HOUSE! Come on, similarly fed-up moms, fall out behind me, and let's march back to our cars, VALIANT in our UNWILLINGNESS TO WAIT IN LINE for the OPPORTUNITY to pay for USED MERCHANDISE! EVADE MWOM, LADIES!

I think the grandma was just grateful for my space in the line.

7 comments:

Rando said...

I also wonder why tan = healthy. I think our prehistoric sensibilities equate tan skin with evidence of being in the sun, moving around, healthy, working, etc. Nowadays we know intellectually that pasty=health, but our intellects cannot conquer this primordial instinct to praise/honor/obey the burn/tan.

katie said...

hahhahah i love your defiance. you are so stubborn with no regret!

Grace said...

Whoa, I gotta see a before/after of the airbrush tan. I'm so intrigued. How will it fade? Does it just sort of lose it's intensity or do you have to deal with spots??? Please inform - you know I'm pasty too Girl!

kristine said...

Grace--so far, so good. No spots, and it's supposed to last for 5-7 days, so I'm crossing my fingers that it sticks around until the wedding on Thursday.

Ok, ok, I'll be honest--I'm not really "washing" my legs at all in between now and then. I'm sure some sort of soap must land on them when I'm showering, but I'M NOT SCRUBBING!

Anonymous said...

ever hear of pantyhose?

kristine said...

PANTYHOSE IS FOR OLD PEOPLE! FAUX SKIN CANCER IS FOR YOUNGS!

Grace said...

Thanks for the info! Scrubbing is overrated and pantyhose are a thing of the past.