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8:36 AM EDT, May 2, 2013
We moms don't have a lot of time for personal maintenance...am I right?
My son's teacher asked me if I got a haircut the other day and I replied: "No, this is just the unusual, dramatic results of a brush and blow dryer." Our clothes display spots of breakfast and boogers...the iron becomes a relic from the past. We bond with wrinkles.
So, in late March, when I was at the height of my rumpled glory, I heard the dreaded words"
Jim Altman and I were asked to pose for a few fun pictures, in advance of the "Daytrips & Destinations Travel & Family Fun Expo" coming up on Sunday, May 5th at the Cromwell Crowne Plaza.
"How do I pull the Old Girl together?" I thought, looking at the calendar for any opportunity to partake in some self-care. I carved out a few hours while the kids were at school and set-out on a mission.
As I was leaving the hair dresser, I spied a foreign mecca of glamour...one which I had never set foot in.
THE SPRAY TAN SALON.
"Hmmm," I thought. I had never felt compelled to get a thin layer of fake dye sprayed on my body but I was self-conscious about this photo shoot, coming after the busiest, longest winter ever. So, I decided: "What the heck?"
I walked in and faced the 20 year old sales woman with some trepidation.
"I've never done this before," I said, sheepishly.
"Oh, it's simple," she advised. "You just stand in the booth, stuff is spayed on you...and VOILA! You're tan!"
Sounds easy, right?
I hadn't really thought about HOW I WOULD BREATHE while freezing, smelly liquid clouded around my face. I had an instant panic attack and fumbled for the door knob of the booth.
"GASP!" I took a huge breath of air through the small crack in the door and attempted to collect myself.
"I can do this. I must be tan," I decided, bravely turning back to the machine. Suddenly, it stopped. Is it over? Is the tanning torture complete?
I was perplexed...then, it hit me.
I spun around, subjecting my backside to the icy daggers, so that I wouldn't look like a zebra, of course...but, was still very uncomfortable with the whole set-up. The second - I mean, THE SECOND - that machine stopped again, I jumped out of the booth.
"WHEW," I thought, as I breathed a sigh of relief. "I survived the spray tan!"
But, then, why is the machine still making noise?
AAARRRGGGHHH, it's a dryer!
By the time I jumped back in, the dryer, naturally, had stopped.
"Um, excuse me?" I called shakily over the wall partition, looking for help from my young tanning expert at the front desk. "I kind of missed the dryer. What do I do now?"
"Oh, just stand there for a few minutes and drip-dry. You'll be fine," she sang out positively.
Those were some of the strangest few minutes of my life....as I stood naked, cold and wet...in a weird little room...in a weird little establishment.
But, alas, I was bronze!
Aside from a hideable stripe, all the way down my arms (I apparently didn't hold my limbs correctly during my freak-out) the spray tan actually looked pretty good...and did the trick of making me feel a little bit more sure of myself while I smiled and posed. And, folks noticed! "Where have you been?" envious friends asked at school pick-up.
Little did they know...it wasn't Bermuda or Aruba....just a shopping plaza outside of Hartford.
But, will I ever embark on this adventure again? Probably not.
The spray tan smelled gross...left marks on my pillow...and rubbed off in a few days.
Oh yeah, and when I blew my nose, tan stuff came out.
But, it's a good story, right?