My husband informed me last night that I looked like one of those primitive people in National Geographic, and all I needed was a bone for my hair. Perhaps I should explain…
I am a self-proclaimed connoisseur of self-tanners. I am Scotch-Irish, Dutch, Welsh, French-Canadian, German, with a smidgeon of Indian I’m told. Though you’d play hell finding any Indian in me. I am white! Very fair skin, freckles, fair hair (though that’s a dye job now), and blue eyes that are sensitive enough the sun makes me sneeze when I walk out into it. If…IF…I get any color at all in the summer it’s really too vague to even make a difference. So for someone like me self-tanners are a must. That, and Pissy has put on a few pounds in the last several years and everyone knows a tan is slimming. That being said, I’ve tried all kinds of shit and have faithfully stuck by one for quite a few years now. It’s called Famous Dave’s Moisture Tan and you can find it on Ebay. This summer however, I thought I’d try something else.
I blame this latest fiasco on Kelly Ripa of “Regis and Kelly” fame. She always has such a lovely brown color to her skin that looks really natural, and I read that she uses Fake Bake; as do many celebrities. Soooo….some time back I ordered myself some. Till now I haven’t really had a reason to use it–as I’ve been stuck on the acreage most of the time–but given that Pandora Patty is flying in this weekend, I haven’t seen her in eons, have no idea what we’re going to do after she gets here, I thought it best to get some color in case I want to wear some shorts due to the heatwave we’re having. Well, she’s going to be in Friday afternoon, so I thought yesterday would be a good time to try this stuff, and that way if I messed up some on my knees or feet I’d have time to maybe fix it.
Anyone tried this shit? No? Ohhh…let me enlighten you!
The color-guide in it works great. Know why? It comes out like poo in a bottle. Yep, it’s that dark! Ain’t gonna miss a spot smearing that ‘shit’ on. I admit it goes on really easy, and after a little circular-rubbing effort rubs in nicely. Could be the fact that it’s like ‘greasy’ poo. Once on you’re like fucked when it comes to getting dressed, sitting down, or getting comfortable at all. I put this crap on around a black bra and black thong, and good thing I did because it is messy and smears on everything! Once on I’m now searching for something to put over it, cause the last thing I want is for my son to come home from camping and find his chubby, middle-aged mother wandering around the house with her blonde hair pulled up in a shower cap, in a thong, with what looks like poo smeared all over her. I mean, that could seriously ruin his future with women. I did find a dark, swimsuit cover up that’s like a tube-top dress and threw that over it; now where and how to sit.
I’M NOT TWENTY ANYMORE! Let’s just clear that up straightway, shall we? I’m not twenty, I don’t look twenty, and my belly and ass is definitely no longer able to pull off twenty. Feel me? When I sat down the first thing I noticed was that the greasy poo was starting to settle into the lines above my muffin-top. So here I am now standing quickly up, and smoothing out said line with the inside of my arm just above my wrist. Now I have too much on my arm, not sure where to wipe that off at, so I bend over, flip the back of my tube-top dress up exposing my bare ass, and am rubbing my arms on that. Don’t laugh. It did the trick! It’s becoming clear to me now that the only safe way to wear this stuff and ensure I’m going to tan evenly is to be in a reclining position, so I find an old sheet, spread it out across the top of my bed, and kick back to watch tv. Few moments later it occurs to me that in doing so my head is tilted forward, and now I’m getting greasy lines in my neck. Good-fucking-grief! Again with the arms; this time rubbing them across my belly. I tilt my head back. I have no idea how long I looked at the bare ceiling. By the way, it has cracks.
Now a couple hours later my husband shows up. He didn’t say anything when I greeted him in the dining room on my way into the kitchen, but only looked at me funny as I was putting meatloaf in the microwave to warm for him. I can imagine how wonderful I looked covered in greasy poo, clad in a tube-top dress with the straps of my bra exposed, and my hair pulled up on top of my head, the tendrils on the sides now slightly greasy too and sticking straight out like the hair in Grandpa Munster’s ears. He didn’t say anything, but then the moment I saw him I warned him not to.
My son came home a bit later and was lounging in the living room when I once again crawled from my bat cave and ventured down the stairs. I’m not even going to bother sharing with you his reaction. From prior posts you should know by now that kid has no tact whatsoever. My husband looked at me and told me I needed to shower. I told him I couldn’t, I had to leave it on.
Hubby: (Looking incredulous) “You’re not sleeping with that on?”
Me: “I have to. It says to leave it on all night long or it won’t take properly.”
Hubby: “It’s already taken. Go wash it off.”
Hubby: “Are you serious? Have you even looked at yourself? You’re fucking face is scary looking.”
Me: My hands immediately go on my hips and I take my usual I-don’t-care-what-you-say stance. “It’s a color guide. It’s not going to look this way when I wash it off, dummy!” I am sticking out my ass in one direction and rocking the head in the other.
Hubby: “God I hope not. You look like one of those people on National Geographic. All you need now is a bone in your hair.” He didn’t even crack a smile. I think he might’ve been serious.
Okay, so I got through the night. The hubby wasn’t pleased, because this shit smells about how it looks, and I refused to sleep on the couch, but crawled in right beside him. Funny, he wasn’t in the mood last night. Maybe I should put this shit on more often. This morning I’ve yet to wash it off, because well…most of it is already wiped clean on my sheets! I have no idea what this is going to look like when I do, but I’ll tell ya already that any slight discolorations from age spots or freckles I might’ve had on my face before are now as obvious as having Leprosy. I’m giving this product no stars! In fact, is there a way I can rate it in the negative?
The moral of this story: Stick with what you know works. Never do anything that cannot be quickly reversed right before you have plans to be out in public. Don’t use anything with the word Fake in it, cause what you see is what you’re gonna get. More important, if you’re someone that has named your blog after a litterbox with the words “Same Shit…Different Story” in the caption, you can be sure SHIT will happen and it’ll happen to you!
I’m going to go take a shower and cry now.