Yesterday was going to be a great day. It was my last day of summer school (also known as Last Day of BSing Stats Tests), it was my day off work, and it was a day of pampering!
I woke up later than planned for my 8 am final, but still made it on time because my professor was also late (gotta love Tech). Then when sitting down to take the test, I experience another mini crisis: didn't bring the calculator! HA! I actually went into a math final... SANS CALC! Seriously Augusta???? I was kicking myself the whole test. So I did what I could then when I was done, I asked teach if he had a calculator I could borrow. He said yes "but dere ah dees-play err-ors." Um.. just give me the freaking calculator. Luckily his broken ass display screened calculator pulled through for me, and I was able to figure out slash guess the answers I hadn't finished yet.
Phew. Test over.
Pour bowl of cereal. Realize I have no milk. Go to Leonards to buy milk. See 99 cent chocolate muffins at Leonards. Cave in. Then awkwardly buy milk. Go home. Eat muffin and stare at bowl of cereal with sliced bananas. I put it in the fridge (my roommate must wonder what the ef I'm doing 89% of the time).
Blog. Shower. Put on make up and self tanner for what it's worth. Blog yet again (no life????). Half ass attempt to clean room. Watch shark week (where the ef is Andy Samberg??). Attempt to eat hours old cereal with milk this time. It tastes weird. Throw it away and make turkey sandwhich. Satisfied.
I find myself to be explicitly excited for my hair appt taking place in 30 minutes by this time. I had googled pictures and saved them on my handy dandy iPhone to make it easy for the stylist to know EXACTLY what I was aiming for. Here are the pictures.
I wanted this cut... Don't get me started on her "fashion line" but when it comes to her hair, I am a follower.
I wanted this color. I liked the dark ass brown softened by lighter BUT NOT BLONDE tones. Wouldn't mind having her face either.
And this is where shit gets real.
I sit down in the chair, with a new hair stylist. My old one had left the salon (red flag???). I show her the pictures, then we go through the color samples of hair. For some reason I get talked into picking something UNLIKE Penelope's hues. I pick this dark reddish brown. Whatever.
Eyebrow time. For this visit, by a salon not known for being one of the best in town, and even further I was given a new girl, for some reason I decide it an appropriate time to do something retardedly drastic. Something that should be saved for ACTUAL professionals. Augusta decides to get her eyebrows dyed the color of her new hair color. How cute.
Hair dresser has waited about ten minutes since applying eyebrow dye. She examines them and tries to wipe off a little bit with a rag. Well... naturally, the dye wiped off, but had left an evident stain.
LET'S RECAP HERE. When she applied the eyebrow dye, she didn't do it to match my eyebrow shape exact, she just swabbed on basic strokes mimicking my brows, but TWICE AS THICK as my brows' size, mind you.
Back to the story- After swiping a little off she utters, "Hmm.." I didn't think twice about her gestures, I was engrossed in an article in OK magazine about Kim Kardashian's vs. Jessica Simpson's weddings coming up. She then takes me to the sink where we rinse my hair and wipe off the rest of my eyebrows. She takes me back to the chair, where I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror, without a magazine to distract me.
-Was my first thought. So.. my eyebrows... they were free of hair cream, yet stained the exact same shape. I looked in the mirror with wet hair, and what looked like magic-markered brown eye brows. Like a little 5 year old drew clown eyebrows on me. I'm not being dramatic!
So I'm a reasonably nice person, and don't say anything.
"So what are we going to do about my eyebrows..." I push, as she starts to cut my hair. She puts down her weapon and makes a "thinking" pose. She has no idea. It is evident. She walks 3 steps to her right and assesses the opinion of a prominent-looking woman, no doubt the owner of the joint.
The owner is a very severe, older looking human with neon feathers attached in 3 places on her head. Her eyebrows are perfect however. She takes one look at me...."Mm" she chokes out. The stylist starts going into this talking frenzy about the chemicals she's already used to try to reduce the stain.
"Did you try soap and water?" The owner asks.
HAH. SOAP AND WATER?????? I was thinking more along the lines of harry potter potions to remove this MINOR mistake, but SOMEHOW an every day soap and water slipped my mind. And also my stylist's mind. She felt stupid for sure. She said she'd do that right after she cuts my hair.
"Nope. Now," says the boss (people no doubt hate this bitch).
And like a dog with its tail between its legs, my hair dresser retrieves soap and water.
Scrub. Scrub. Pause. Scrub. Scrub even harder. Let's just say that as I type this, my eyebrows are raw, peeling, red, and SO SO sensitive. I put baby oil on them. Why? I have no idea. Why not????
Every now and then she'd ask, am I scrubbing to hard? Does this hurt? Are you sensitive? I wanted to calmly scream, "WOMAN, I DON'T CARE IF YOU TAKE A CHAINSAW TO MY FACE, JUST FIX THE SITUATION."
But I refrained. Ok so after a solid 25-29 minutes of scrubbing the hell out of my eyebrows, she seems satisfied.
Which worries me. I mean as much as I enjoy the thick brow, I am no dang Audrey Hepburn, and cannot pull it off.
But at the same time, I was so tired of my pale, light brown/wanna be blonde eyebrows that are strikingly similar to this..
By this point, the whole staff is involved. This is a confined salon, RATHER small. I was getting looks of pity and even confusion from everyone. A little girl was getting feathers put in her hair by a gay man, and she couldn't tell whether I wanted to look like a clown, or if it was a mistake. Poor thing. So easily impressionable at her tender age. Will probably go home and draw on her eyebrows now.
Oh and lets not forget the looks from the receptionist. You know, OH HONEY, you know, your problems are real when the receptionist wearing Ed Hardy is giving you looks of pity. That was my life today. The receptionist wearing Ed Hardy was giving me looks of pity.
Then we have the awkward young married couple, and even more awkward Dad with his 2 daughters. The girl getting her hair done next to me is also 20 years old. She is a nanny, is from Lubbock, and went to Trinity high school. Did I mention I'm a huge creep??? Slash ease dropper???? She says the words, "My husband" and I just think "Ohh laawwwwwwd" and she goes on and on. Then low and behold, HUBBY WALKS IN! Oh joy! He is in his construction gear. He walks in to the already over crowded, highly judgmental, environment. He sees my eyebrows before he sees the human that is myself under them.
And then.... the look of pity. The look of pity from the young married couple.
AS IF THE 5-YEAR OLD GIRL, AND TRANNY RECEPTIONIST WEREN'T ENOUGH.
And all while this is going on, a poor Dad is AWKWARDLY- EVER SO AWKWARDLY- blow drying his daughters hair???? WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?? Isn't that the gay guy's job? I'm so confused! Forget my eyebrows, we got a straight man doing hair in the building!
CHAOS. MADNESS. ANARCHY.
Moving on-, 4:58pm:
At this point, I am over my eyebrows. I am over my hair. I am over this dorm-room salon, young married couple, and metro-sexual father.
"How do you like your hair styled?"
ANYTHING I JUST WANT TO GET OUT OF HERE. "Blow dried and teased at the top."
My hair is blow dried. My hair is short. I have a stunning resemblance to Brittany Murphy, pre Clueless Make-over (may she, and her eyebrows rest in peace).
"Your hair is doing a natural flip out thing in the front, is that okay?"
My hair is teased, straight, and flipped out at the bottom. I now look like Flo from the progressive commercial.
So whatever. Self confidence is over-rated anyway right? I proceed to go pay for my hair and try my hardest to exit building immediately. Ed Hardy girl rang me up at a whopping $120. ONE HUNDRED TWENTY AS IN ONE HUNDRED TWENTY DOLLARS OF UNITED STATES CURRENCY?????? I could have done what this bimbo did at my own house and effed up my own eye brows for only $10, but whatever. What-err.
This leads me to go therapy shopping.
The salon is conveniently located by a little area of fun shops. Next door, we have a lingerie boutique. It's actually fairly classy, and many brides register there. Thongs. Corsets. Awkward crotchless pantise. Okay, I've seen enough. Outgoing.
Next stop, is a well known LBK boutique. I found 2 things I wanted among a sea of sale items. Both of which were Sam Edelman shoes. Both of which were size 6. Both of which I tried my damndest to wedge my size 7-7.5 foot in. Fail. I also felt like I was in The Buckle, I was in there 13 minutes, and was asked if I wanted water 98 times. LEAVE ME ALONE I'M UGLY.
Proceeded to walk in and immediately out of a typical Lubbock-ized boutique, complete with bedazzled Miss Me jeans, Rhinestone cross purses complete with matching necklaces, jumbo pearl chokers and bedazzled EVERYTHING. My eyes hurt. I ran out. Me and my eyebrows, that is.
I drove along and ended up at Ross. This was supposed to be just a quick run through, since it had been months since my last (unsuccessful) Ross trip.
Two hours Later:
I found everything. Amazing heels, awesome finds in dresses, tops, most just $7.90 and the cutest undergarments for just $2.50!!!! I tried on item after item, and rang up over $100 worth of goods.
It was a little embarrassing?????? I never realized that I, a Chrome employee, could find so many must-haves at a place like Ross???? Who am I? Whatever. I wanted more than I could actually buy. #whitegirlproblems
For my next blog, (I promise it won't be a novel) I'm going to post my Ross purchases.
Until then, enjoy your normal eye brows.