A little over a month ago, I got about a foot of hair chopped off. While I was getting my hair cut, I asked my stylist about eyelash tinting. See..you may or may not know that I am a natural blonde. And you may or may not know, I groom dogs for a living. If you’ve never actually stepped foot inside a dog grooming salon, you might not realize that the hair gets EVERWHERE. And I mean..everywhere. Nothing like stopping at a store after work and looking down to realize you have a fine dusting of black hair decorating your decolletage. I still don’t know if it’s better or worse to explain that it’s not mine. Awk.
Anyway. Wearing makeup, particularly mascara, creates an extra sticky surface for this hair to attach itself, making for a particularly torturous workday for me. I walk around rubbing my face, picking hair out of my eyelashes, eyes watering and by the end of the day, I look like a smeary, runny mess.
The trouble lies particularly with the mascara. It makes a stiff, bristly hair catcher out of my eyelashes. But I’m a blonde, and having blonde eyelashes, it looks really weird to wear all makeup except mascara. I looked and looked and could not find a light enough mascara that did not cause problems. Even the so called “lighter” or “Softer” mascaras created venus fly traps for dog hair out of my eyes.
So I gave up. Until I heard about eyelash tinting. That could solve my problems!
But only a few salons did it, and it ran between $30-$60. I have a kid, I can’t justify that. Maybe someday.
So I thought I’d see if my salon did it while I was there, and she said she didn’t, but she knew someone that did. This girl, we’ll call her K, is still in beauty school.
“But she does a great job and hey, she only charges $10!”
This is me, calling to make an appointment for K. “Okay no problem.” Well, then something came up and I had to reschedule that appointment.. So I call again, and say I want an appointment with K. They say “How about 12?” I say fine. Five minutes later, my phone rings.
(I’m paraphrasing here)
“Uh hey, that girl that just booked your appointment didn’t know what the hell she was talking about. We only do appointments during two time slots, which of those would you like?” So I chose. I confirmed that it was with K.
Fast forward to day of. I say “I’m here for an appointment with K”
I’ll paraphrase again. “Uh..do you know K personally or has she worked on you before?”
“Neither, she was recc’d to me.”
“Then there’s no K here. You’re booked with C. ”
I think..well, maybe I misremembered her name. Whatevs. I wait for about 15 minutes and I’m looking over their menu and shitting myself with how inexpensive everything is. THIS is my kinda price range!! Woohoo!!’
Then C comes out to get me. She’s about 98 lbs. She takes me back to the Aesthetics room. I giggle to myself at the “Shh, Facials in Progress” sign outside the door. We go inside, and there’s like oh..20 massage tables lining the outer perimeter of a large, dim room. There’s people on these tables, getting massages and facials (snort giggle). It’s all quiet and there’s some Peruvian flute music playing quietly.
She takes me to a paper lined table and tells me to “hop up and lie down”. Oh shit. Bitches my size don’t hop up on anything, ever. And this table is up just slightly higher than would be simple for my rotund ass. So I gotta climb a little, and lemme tell ya, I’m not exactly sprightly. So I’m all loud and the paper is crinkling all loud. “CRINKLE CRINKLE CREAK THUMP”
I’m disrupting someone’s facial (Ha!) . Okay. SO I lay back and realize the table is narrower than I am, so my elbows hang off the sides. And my head is lower than my body. This ain’t good.
She tells me to close my eyes, and starts smearing what feels like Vaseline on my face all around my eyes. Don’t ask how I know what Vaseline feels like, mind your business. Then she says “Um..stay right there, keep your eyes closed, I’ll be right back.”
I tell myself not to be concerned. It’s totally fine. She comes back with a teacher. “I’m sorry Miss M. I just haven’t done this in awhile and I’m not sure about what I’m doing.”
ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
I’m starting to feel hot and panicky. But the teacher is there, and she’s like “Ah you shouldn’t have put the vaseline all over the eyes like this.” (Toldya it was vaseline, bitches.) So she tells me she’s going to use blue-black dye and thinks it will look awesome. Great. They take little pieces of tissue paper and stick them underneath my eyes.
Have I ever mentioned that I have this horrible phobia about people touching my face? I realize at this point I simply did not think this through. It’s almost over, breathe in, breathe out. She shows C how to apply the dye. Tells her how much to use. Miss M does one eye, touching my eyelashes with a q-tip. She tells C to do the other one and walks away.
She starts dabbing the other eye. I start to wonder how the hell I’m going to get up. My ab muscles are still total shit from having the cutest baby in the world. There’s nothing for me to grab onto to hoist my mass up off the stupid narrow locker room bench table.
C calls Miss M back over, and she inspects her work. “OH Good job!!” I start to feel good. C learned something. I picture luscious blue black, non sticky, luxurious fringe rimming my eyes. I’m gonna look sooooo sexy.
“Now just leave it on for about 10-15 minutes. Then call me and we’ll rinse.”
Good feeling is over.
I have to lay here, like THIS? Panicky, hot. Breathe, peruvian flute music. I try to busy myself mentally, thinking about how I’m going to redo the bathroom soon. What shade of pink should I paint it? Brushed nickel or chrome? And pretty soon, I feel Miss M come back and tell C it’s time..
So they take the paper off, wipe the excess dye off. Some has ended up on my nose, my cheeks. They clean it all off. Miss M asks me if my eyes are stinging. I say yes. She says “Where?” And I’m like “Um…in my eyes?”
She says “Yea which one?” Like I’m stupid. “Both of em!”
So they flush my eyeballs out. Have I ever mentioned I don’t like getting my face wet? I did not think this through.
So I’m done. I manage somehow to maneuver my fat ass up and off that table with more CRINKLE CRINKLE THUD CREAK-ing. I go look in the mirror in the dim lighting. I definitely see a difference, but it’s dim. I can’t get outside fast enough to look in the real light and see the luxurious blue black fringe that is surely lining my eyeballs.
So I pay, tip, and leave. Get out to the car and flip down the vanity mirror.
Not much difference at all. They are not blonde anymore, but that’s about it. Can you believe that?
I suppose my expectations were a little overblown. But as I’m looking, I spot a black dot on my blond eyebrow. I scrubbed the hell out of it as soon as I got home, and the next day at work you could only see it if I stood in direct sunlight. And the lashes..well it’s subtle, but it does help. I don’t know if I’ll do it again though..I don’t think I can take it.
So when I got home, I shot a quick message over to my hairdresser. “Her name was C, right?”
“No it’s K.”
See, that’s what I thought, but they told me she didn’t exist!
So I guess K is getting all the reccs and business, and they want the other girls to learn. So this is what they’re doing. Whatevs, like I said I’m pretty sure I can’t handle it again anyway.
Next week, Xavier has his 6 month appointment so I’ll be giving you an update on him, with lots of cute fat baby pictures. I know, you’re so excited.