Torturous Beauty
First of all, GREAT JOB YARDLEY at the Knitting Factory last night! Don't know yet if they scored one of the nominations for the LA Music Awards, but if they didn't, well, there is something very wrong with the judges, like maybe they are deaf. LB, Stephen, Tommy, Mel--you guys sounded great! Best wishes...
Ok, so in other totally unrelated and yet somehow equally important news (to me): I got my eyebrows done the other day, and I think the lady messed up. It hurts me to say so, because this is the lady I've been going to regularly (and by "regularly" I mean, "regularly for me," which equates to about once every two months or so, instead of once every three weeks). Also, she is a very nice lady, and she always remembers things like my birthday, and asking after my sister (the cowgirl used to go to her too). She also usually gushes over the beauty of my eyebrows, which is probably not good for my ego, but is still very nice to hear.
She did not gush over them the other day, probably because she was horrified at the state I let them get into, and the fact that I, in my attempt at keeping them in some sort of shape on my own (terrible idea), had actually plucked out too much and left one of them shorter than the other. Apparently this was very bad, even though I hadn't noticed it. But I do notice that now, after getting them done, my eyebrows are kind of crooked. No one else has said anything, but I think they are just trying to be tactful.
All this brings me (finally) to my real topic of the day, which is: beauty routines. Specifically, my beauty routines. And since I have none, this ought to be a very short post, but since it's me writing it, it already isn't.
Not too long ago, I visited a Mary Kay consultant for some reason that I can't quite recall. Perhaps I have blocked it out of my mind. Anyway, we sat down at her dining room table and she said, "Ok, now tell me a little about your beauty routine," and I burst out laughing. Um, I brush my teeth every day--does that count? Well, no, apparently it doesn't. For one thing, to have a beauty routine, you kind of have to have beauty essentials, like makeup and the tools to apply it. I have very little of either. In fact, during my Mary Kay visit, the poor woman handed me a brush or something and I had to ask her what it was and how to use it.
"Um, that's for putting on eyeshadow."
"Of course! I knew that. I was just, uh, testing you. Yeah! Now what about this?"
"That's a fork."
"Oh. Right."
Ahem.
Some of these makeup tools, by the way, bear a frightening resemblance to torture devices. I went to a beauty store in the mall yesterday with a friend whose wife had asked him to pick up some tweezers, and we found, not just tweezers, but a whole tweezer section, with lots of different types. There was one particular set that contained a pair of tweezers so sharp that I nearly drew blood just touching their tips with my finger. And this is something that I am supposed to put in the vicinity of my eye!
But my "favorite" tool was this strange, surgically-silver implement that I can't quite remember the exact name of now, but which I definitely remember involved the words "extractor" and "lance." It was long and thin and looked like something the Ancient Egyptians might have used in their embalming processes, like maybe the thing they stuck up the nose of the corpse in order to yank out the brains. Again, not something that I would personally choose, on purpose, to be anywhere near the region of my face, or even my body in general.
As we looked at the sparkling array of tools, my friend observed, "Beauty hurts." I had to agree. Even though I don't have a beauty routine, I still do get my eyebrows done whenever the weather changes, and it's no picnic, unless it's a picnic under attack by a vast army of innumerable Fire Ants, each one carrying extractor lances and pointy tweezers like little daggers.
Ok, so in other totally unrelated and yet somehow equally important news (to me): I got my eyebrows done the other day, and I think the lady messed up. It hurts me to say so, because this is the lady I've been going to regularly (and by "regularly" I mean, "regularly for me," which equates to about once every two months or so, instead of once every three weeks). Also, she is a very nice lady, and she always remembers things like my birthday, and asking after my sister (the cowgirl used to go to her too). She also usually gushes over the beauty of my eyebrows, which is probably not good for my ego, but is still very nice to hear.
She did not gush over them the other day, probably because she was horrified at the state I let them get into, and the fact that I, in my attempt at keeping them in some sort of shape on my own (terrible idea), had actually plucked out too much and left one of them shorter than the other. Apparently this was very bad, even though I hadn't noticed it. But I do notice that now, after getting them done, my eyebrows are kind of crooked. No one else has said anything, but I think they are just trying to be tactful.
All this brings me (finally) to my real topic of the day, which is: beauty routines. Specifically, my beauty routines. And since I have none, this ought to be a very short post, but since it's me writing it, it already isn't.
Not too long ago, I visited a Mary Kay consultant for some reason that I can't quite recall. Perhaps I have blocked it out of my mind. Anyway, we sat down at her dining room table and she said, "Ok, now tell me a little about your beauty routine," and I burst out laughing. Um, I brush my teeth every day--does that count? Well, no, apparently it doesn't. For one thing, to have a beauty routine, you kind of have to have beauty essentials, like makeup and the tools to apply it. I have very little of either. In fact, during my Mary Kay visit, the poor woman handed me a brush or something and I had to ask her what it was and how to use it.
"Um, that's for putting on eyeshadow."
"Of course! I knew that. I was just, uh, testing you. Yeah! Now what about this?"
"That's a fork."
"Oh. Right."
Ahem.
Some of these makeup tools, by the way, bear a frightening resemblance to torture devices. I went to a beauty store in the mall yesterday with a friend whose wife had asked him to pick up some tweezers, and we found, not just tweezers, but a whole tweezer section, with lots of different types. There was one particular set that contained a pair of tweezers so sharp that I nearly drew blood just touching their tips with my finger. And this is something that I am supposed to put in the vicinity of my eye!
But my "favorite" tool was this strange, surgically-silver implement that I can't quite remember the exact name of now, but which I definitely remember involved the words "extractor" and "lance." It was long and thin and looked like something the Ancient Egyptians might have used in their embalming processes, like maybe the thing they stuck up the nose of the corpse in order to yank out the brains. Again, not something that I would personally choose, on purpose, to be anywhere near the region of my face, or even my body in general.
As we looked at the sparkling array of tools, my friend observed, "Beauty hurts." I had to agree. Even though I don't have a beauty routine, I still do get my eyebrows done whenever the weather changes, and it's no picnic, unless it's a picnic under attack by a vast army of innumerable Fire Ants, each one carrying extractor lances and pointy tweezers like little daggers.
posted by grackyfrogg @ 9:00 AM
1 Comments:
At 12:45 PM ,
skwerlman7 said...
This is the very reason i choose comfort over style every time. i know that this is bad for my reputation, but apparently my reputation is not as important as my ability to relax. Sometimes, rarely, you can achieve both. And when it happens...it is SO sweet
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