I’ve started doing all sorts of stuff I never thought I’d do. For instance, yesterday, I bought a can of Big, Sexy Hair (it’s hairspray). AND I paid a professional airbrush technician to apply fake tan to my body. Clearly this means it’s official: I am a competitive ballroom dancer. AND I am living proof that one can, in fact, teach old dogs new tricks.
You might be thinking so she bought a can of hairspray and got a spray tan… big deal, but I assure for me it is a big deal. I’ve never been much for big hair or fake tanning, but when in Rome (or New Jersey or the ballroom)… you know the rest.
Anyway, the first time I competed, I applied sunless tanning lotion to myself every day for the ten days preceding the event. It was a tedious, labor intensive procedure, so this time around (I’m competing in the Michigan Dance Challenge tomorrow) I made up my mind to find a salon that offered a gluten-free tanning solution (I have celiac). As it turns out, there is such a place and it’s less than three minutes from my home. Here’s how it went down.
The Dancing Housewife: Hi! I have a 2 o’clock appointment for a gluten-free airbrush tan.
Airbrush Technician: Great! Let’s head back to the booth.
The Dancing Housewife follows Airbrush Technician down a hallway to a room with a large tanning booth.
Airbrush Technician: Ok. So before we get started you need pull your hair back and put on one of these disposable caps. Then rub a little of this pre-tanning moisturizer between your fingers and toes and to your hands, feet, ankles, your knees and elbows… you know, all the places that get a little darker or weirder than the rest of your body. And you’re a ballroom dancer right?
The Dancing Housewife: Ok. And yeah, I’m doing this for a ballroom competition and I wanted to tell you my dresses are backless and pretty low cut in the front so how do we make sure I don’t have any white spots poking out?
Airbrush Technician: Well that’s not going to be a problem since you’ll be naked… you know, au naturel…
I am a modest person. Other than myself, there are exactly three people in this entire world who have seen me completely naked since I went through puberty. One of them is my husband. The other two are my kids… and they haven’t seen me naked since they were toddlers when the only way I could prevent some calamitous event from occurring while I showered was to barricade them in the bathroom with me. Neither of them appears to be manifesting any psychological scars from this practice so I’m fairly certain they have no memory of their naked mother. If they do, at least it was two decades ago, before gravity wreaked havoc on those parts that always seemed most fascinating to them at the time.
Anyway, I must have looked like I was going to faint or puke or run screaming from the salon because the airbrush tech said Don’t worry. We do this all the time. We don’t judge. Really? REALLY? They don’t judge? For the record, I am not ashamed of my body. I am modest. There is a difference.
I contemplated abandoning the whole spray tan idea, but then I remembered how bright the lights on competitive dance floors can be.
I got the tan and a few hours later went to my son’s baseball game. All the other baseball moms commented on my tan and asked if I’d been on vacation. I told them no. It was fake. Airbrushed. They couldn’t believe it. It looks so natural. I smiled sheepishly au natural, to be exact…
I’ve started doing all sorts of stuff I never thought I’d do. For instance, yesterday, I bought a can of Big, Sexy Hair (it’s hairspray). AND I paid a professional airbrush technician to apply fake tan to my body. Clearly this means it’s official: I am a competitive ballroom dancer. AND I am living proof that one can, in fact, teach old dogs new tricks.
(For the record, I do have a few tan lines so other than myself, there are still exactly only three people in this entire world who have seen me completely naked since I went through puberty. )
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