Hold onto your socks, friends...this one is riveting! :)
The Scandinavian in my DNA make up runs deep...I've got the pale, pasty skin to go along with the blonde hair and blue eyes. I always wished I was that rare breed of blondes that could get a deep, golden tan in the summer, but alas, it is not so.
I can tan...kind of. I mean, you know, FOR ME I can get tan...but my "tannest" will always be my husband's "palest". He's of the enviable genetic makeup that allows him to walk outside to get the mail and come back in with a deep, golden bronze hue to his skin.
Jerk.
;)
Anyway, long ago, I eschewed tanning beds. The risk of skin cancer just wasn't worth that "healthy" (or you know, not) glow of a tan. Instead, I discovered the marvel of airbrush tans. And I'm not talking the "get nekkid and stand in a capsule while an automated machine tans you"...oh no, I'm talking about "get nekkid and stand in front of a complete STRANGER while she sprays you with a gigantic airbrush gun".
Freaky, yes. But totes worth it, man.
So, several weeks prior to our Mexico departure, I called my salon to get my air brush tan appointment. Having done this several times before, I knew the ABSOLUTE earliest I could do it was Saturday evening, but I preferred Sunday afternoon.
"Are you open on Sunday?"
"Yes! By appointment only."
"Well...can I make an appointment for an airbrush tan?"
"Oh...it looks like both our girls that do that service are off that Sunday."
"How about Saturday?"
"Eeeesh, they're both off on Saturday too."
"Oh no."
"Friday?"
"Nope."
"Well...we do have one girl training in. Let me check and see if she'll be ready by then."
"Okay!!!"
Several weeks pass without hearing from the salon. I'm starting to get nervous, cuz I need this done. Like NEED! I mean...have you ever seen a dead of winter Scandinavian in the Mexican sun?! It's BLINDING!!!!! I needed some sort of color base!
So, I call the salon...and I'm told she's almost there, but not quite taking appointments yet.
I desperation I plead, "Can I be her guinea pig?!?!?!?"
After a bit of phone tag the salon decides, yes, they will allow the "trainee" to do my tan with the understanding that there will be no refund or "fix" if something goes wrong.
Well, SIGN ME UP!! I was desperate and really...how can you mess it up?
The Saturday before our trip rolls around, I head down to the salon, meet the adorable girl I'm about to bare it all in front of and she starts the process.
Because I'm super worried about offending her, I don't ask what color she put in for me, I just let her do her thing...maybe it was some sort of psychological test...me seeing if she'd ask? Meh. No. It was me just not advocating for myself. Ugh.
Anyway...she's doing her thing. I'm thinking "something feels a smidge different" but can't really put my finger on it, then she asks..."can you feel the mist?" and I say, "no...not really". She shakes the gun thing, resprays and yeah, it's there...just not like it usually feels.
I'm paying closer attention and so I start to tell her, "Nope, can't feel it. Okay, I can now." and am essentially giving her a play by play when she offers up, "they were having a hard time with it earlier...when they held the gun up, it didn't spray" and sure enough, THAT'S it! When she raised the gun above my shoulder level, I couldn't really feel a darn thing (other than air)...so, when she got to my face, I offered to squat.
Yes.
Squat.
So there I was. Nekkid as a jay bird (except for the disposable "panties"), doing squats in front of a complete stranger. Spray up to shoulders, squat for a face spray, stand. And repeat.
And repeat.
I may have snorted with embarrassed laughter...but there was only one other person in that room to prove it, and I'm not telling you her name!!! ;)
I get dressed, see a barely visible tan line where the panty string was and go about the day, every so often saying, "I don't feel very tan.".
I wake up the next morning, and guess what?
NOT TAN.
Like, at all.
Not a bit.
So, those poor people in Mexico got a glimpse of what Scandinavian blinding white skin looks like in the Mexican sun.
Pretty sure their eyeballs will never be the same...
(Oh, and they didn't charge me for the tan...they considered it training. Phew. And also, let this story NOT discourage you from airbrush tans! They really are amazing...I'm blaming the malfunctioning machine on this one, not the girl!)
The Scandinavian in my DNA make up runs deep...I've got the pale, pasty skin to go along with the blonde hair and blue eyes. I always wished I was that rare breed of blondes that could get a deep, golden tan in the summer, but alas, it is not so.
I can tan...kind of. I mean, you know, FOR ME I can get tan...but my "tannest" will always be my husband's "palest". He's of the enviable genetic makeup that allows him to walk outside to get the mail and come back in with a deep, golden bronze hue to his skin.
Jerk.
;)
Anyway, long ago, I eschewed tanning beds. The risk of skin cancer just wasn't worth that "healthy" (or you know, not) glow of a tan. Instead, I discovered the marvel of airbrush tans. And I'm not talking the "get nekkid and stand in a capsule while an automated machine tans you"...oh no, I'm talking about "get nekkid and stand in front of a complete STRANGER while she sprays you with a gigantic airbrush gun".
Freaky, yes. But totes worth it, man.
So, several weeks prior to our Mexico departure, I called my salon to get my air brush tan appointment. Having done this several times before, I knew the ABSOLUTE earliest I could do it was Saturday evening, but I preferred Sunday afternoon.
"Are you open on Sunday?"
"Yes! By appointment only."
"Well...can I make an appointment for an airbrush tan?"
"Oh...it looks like both our girls that do that service are off that Sunday."
"How about Saturday?"
"Eeeesh, they're both off on Saturday too."
"Oh no."
"Friday?"
"Nope."
"Well...we do have one girl training in. Let me check and see if she'll be ready by then."
"Okay!!!"
Several weeks pass without hearing from the salon. I'm starting to get nervous, cuz I need this done. Like NEED! I mean...have you ever seen a dead of winter Scandinavian in the Mexican sun?! It's BLINDING!!!!! I needed some sort of color base!
So, I call the salon...and I'm told she's almost there, but not quite taking appointments yet.
I desperation I plead, "Can I be her guinea pig?!?!?!?"
After a bit of phone tag the salon decides, yes, they will allow the "trainee" to do my tan with the understanding that there will be no refund or "fix" if something goes wrong.
Well, SIGN ME UP!! I was desperate and really...how can you mess it up?
The Saturday before our trip rolls around, I head down to the salon, meet the adorable girl I'm about to bare it all in front of and she starts the process.
Because I'm super worried about offending her, I don't ask what color she put in for me, I just let her do her thing...maybe it was some sort of psychological test...me seeing if she'd ask? Meh. No. It was me just not advocating for myself. Ugh.
Anyway...she's doing her thing. I'm thinking "something feels a smidge different" but can't really put my finger on it, then she asks..."can you feel the mist?" and I say, "no...not really". She shakes the gun thing, resprays and yeah, it's there...just not like it usually feels.
I'm paying closer attention and so I start to tell her, "Nope, can't feel it. Okay, I can now." and am essentially giving her a play by play when she offers up, "they were having a hard time with it earlier...when they held the gun up, it didn't spray" and sure enough, THAT'S it! When she raised the gun above my shoulder level, I couldn't really feel a darn thing (other than air)...so, when she got to my face, I offered to squat.
Yes.
Squat.
So there I was. Nekkid as a jay bird (except for the disposable "panties"), doing squats in front of a complete stranger. Spray up to shoulders, squat for a face spray, stand. And repeat.
And repeat.
I may have snorted with embarrassed laughter...but there was only one other person in that room to prove it, and I'm not telling you her name!!! ;)
I get dressed, see a barely visible tan line where the panty string was and go about the day, every so often saying, "I don't feel very tan.".
I wake up the next morning, and guess what?
NOT TAN.
Like, at all.
Not a bit.
So, those poor people in Mexico got a glimpse of what Scandinavian blinding white skin looks like in the Mexican sun.
Pretty sure their eyeballs will never be the same...
(Oh, and they didn't charge me for the tan...they considered it training. Phew. And also, let this story NOT discourage you from airbrush tans! They really are amazing...I'm blaming the malfunctioning machine on this one, not the girl!)
Comments
Post a Comment
I love comments! And, I welcome your thoughts that aren't in agreement with mine...as long as they are respectful!