Had a crappy week. Feel crappy, think crappy, dream crappy. Crappy weather, crappy laundry, crappy service at the grocery store (damn the crappy crooked cart), crappy bills, crappy phone calls, crappy cat crap. (wow, didn't even plan that one) And yes, to top off this mountain of colonic wonder is the fact that I look like crap. No amount of reassuring, primping, hairspraying, viewing myself sideways or sucking in my cheeks is going to change that. The complexion went to hell, my "split ends" have split ends leaving my hair a crispy tuft of frizz, and my nails? I could try out for an extra on a "Thriller" video.
So Alice calls.....and suggests a Spa Day. "A what?" A "SPAAAAA day." A lovely day of scrumptious pampering with lotions, creams, steaming....hmmm...wait...like I have that kind of cash?? Three boys under ten, two birthdays coming up, boyscout fees, school fundraisers, and a youngest child that seems able to wear out a pair of shoes in world-record-breaking time. (did you eat them?) There is no money tree in the yard to pay someone to steam my head! But Alice (dear Alice) says, "no honey, you just stay home, don't answer the phone, and do all the little things you wish you had time to do--manicure, pedicure, facial mask...steam your pores, condition your hair...pamper yourself instead of everyone else!" Cool. I can do that.
Kiss the kids and hubby goodbye, make an omelet. Egg beaters, green onions, leftover chili and cheese--yum. Coffee with gingerbread creamer--yumm-o. Upstairs to begin. Hmmmm.....ok, steam the face and OW! Little hot there--mental note: check hot water heater temp. Refocus. Apply clay facial mask guaranteed to "clear all pores and make you glow." Lets see....directions say "let dry." So....in the meantime, remove all ancient nail polish and file nails. Apply "cuticle remover." Phone rings. Ignore. Wait--my sister, going through stuff....answer...."hello? yeah.....blah blah" Ow....what the hell? "What is in cuticle remover? ACID?!?!" Ahhhhhhh! Drop phone, mad dash for sink. Trip and smash elbow on door frame. Rinse hands frantically in warm water swearing to send nasty letter to Salley Hansen. Pick up phone. Sister hung up. Try to stick tongue out at phone....realize cannot move mouth. Clay mask has hardened like black top. Back to sink. Rinse....rinse more.....clay in nose hairs--what the--!?!? Ow.
Ok, deep breath. Apply "regenerating eye cream." Ooooh, soothing! Paint nails with clear base coat while eye cream is absorbing. Crack knee into sink while trying to turn on water to rinse burning eye cream out of eyes without messing up nails. Fail. Swear. Dry face and notice that there are distinct red "moons" surrounding your eyes now....skip eye cream. Decide to wait on the nails in order to dampen hair and apply the "root stimulating hair conditioning balm." Slippery shit. Fall half in the tub soaking my t-shirt, and the rug. Shut the cat in the door trying to get a towel. Chase cat half naked down the stairs in front of the glass front double doors praying to GOD that the mailman is NOT out there in order to check the sucker for broken bones. Cat is fine. Swear. Limp back upstairs.
Repaint base coat on nails. Blow. Succeed in beautiful base coat!! Yeah! Climb in shower to rinse hair and shave. Fall on ass due to residual coating of hair "balm" in tub. Swear more. Turn on shower, rinse stupid hair for 20 minutes till it doesn't feel like pond slime. Apply "lavender scented" shaving gel and discover the razor is dull. Hang precariously out of shower, soaking the other rug, digging through crap on shelf for extra razor heads--knock new can of hair mousse to the floor where it explodes--covering a four foot section of the wall in foam....and the cat. Which goes howling down the stairs streaming foam. Don't bother following. Shave, love that lavender! Get out and find fuzzy bathrobe to relax in.
Eyebrows. Outta control and distinctly resembling Conan the barbarian. Tweezers...ow. Careful, careful....just when I'm about to pull--WTF!?! A tail, a damp sticky tail from the cat-a-la-hair-care, whips up under my bathrobe as he's attempting to grab my robe belt....ahhhhh! Crap. Where is the end of my eyebrow? Gone. Pulled 17 hairs instead of 3....um.....whoops. Squint, hmmm....no one will notice, right?
Paint the toes...lovely! Fingernails are a smashing "moonlit evening" and I sit back and....CRACK! The lid of the toilet snaps off and I whack my head into the window frame as I collapse into the space between the fabulous porcelain throne and the wall. Swear a great deal. Attempt to heave myself up with my elbows to save the nails....hair snags on wet polish leaving globs of "moonlight" in freshly "root stimulated" hair. Give up. Sit on floor, wet cat staring at me....and cry. Spa day my chemical burned, bruised, banged-up, goose-egged, eyebrow-missing ass.
The kids are home. "Mom?" "Go away." The husband comes home, hesitantly knocks on the bathroom door. "Honey?" Sniff. Door slowly swings open. He stares. "What, don't I look beautiful after my day at the spa??" He hesitates....."Um......."
Um. Thats the total result of my freakin' SPAAAAA day. Um. So much summed up in two spectacular letters. I'm gonna need a week to recover.
I'm never talking to Alice again.