So, when we left off with our party report, I had consumed two point five glasses of red wine and been introduced to a world of New Sensations. I had also had my ears assaulted by unbelievable amounts of lady-hollering. It was like a nine year-old girl's slumber party. And, yes, just like a slumber party, many people were in their PJ's and there was gossip.
Oh! And I forgot to tell you! Remember the post about the email from the crazy book club lady whose son-in-law was terrorizing the neighborhood? Well, her daughter was at this party. I had finally met the crazy-ish mother at book club and was most interested to see her daughter. Now I just need the son-in-law to complete the set. Anyway, Pretty Neighbor knows her, and I was like, "Get her over here and let's ask her what the heck went on that time." But there was not enough wine to make that happen.
Anyhoo, the Passion Hostess finished her presentation and PN and I decided to take our afterglow upstairs and get in line for the tanning. This was one of those houses where the layout is really nice, but in the interest of creating a roomy feeling, the builder just has these weird spaces here and there that you don't know exactly what to do with. You know what I mean? Like, their second floor landing had swollen into a sitting area with a huge couch, coffee table and chairs, and a secretary. I don't know if anyone in the family ever uses this area. Its best use might be for waiting one's turn to be spray tanned in the master bedroom.
So some shiny giggling women leave the bedroom and PN and I get to go in. We had grabbed the sweats we brought out of our huge purses. The tanning lady was a petite blonde with a very friendly vibe and rubber gloves. We introduced ourselves and discussed how she lives in a subdivision up the road, the one that famously has indoor tennis courts. Truly the woman who has everything.
I said, "So should we just strip?" She was like, "basically, yeah." She said we could take off as much or as little as we wanted, she had those paper thongs for us to wear if we wanted.
But I had been prepared and had worn my own thong. Sidebar: as I was getting ready, Matt was like, "You own thong underwear?" Like, why wasn't I informed of this? I said, "Yes, sure, I just never wear them because it's like having something in your hiney crack." He said, "And not in a good way?" Correct. So, the skimpiest thong I have, and the one I thought the best for spray tanning, is the actual pair of thong underwear I wore to my senior year of college Homecoming Dance. I am not kidding, I still have them. There is so much...I just can't even talk about it. I will say that the dance was held at the National Building Museum, which is pretty! End of sidebar!
So I said I'd tan first and carefully separated myself from my new fancy jeans. Then I took off my shirt and said to the girl, "Now, warning, I had a mastectomy and I have a scar. Don't be startled." She didn't actually yawn, but she was like, "Yep, I've seen all the kinds of naked there are." So, okay. I just felt that wearing a bra to be spray tanned was too fussy.
Then she put this barrier cream all over my palms so the tanning solution wouldn't adhere to them. (The side of my thumbs still wound up a rich mahogany.) Then she directed me into this little teepee looking thing that she had brought and had set up in the bedroom so the tan stuff wouldn't go everywhere. It was open at the top and on one side. She told me how to stand and then started spraying. It was like standing in a cold pineapple-scented mist. Not unpleasant. It took a few minutes, I guess, and then I went and stood in front of a big fan to dry off.
PN entered the tanning zone and here things slowed waaay down. I don't know if it was the wine or the nakedness or what but we all got very chatty. No one more chatty than the tanning lady. She had a lot to say about her search for a church home and all manner of other subjects. Which meant, for PN, that the girl would turn off the tanning solution and just be spraying her with cold air while she talked. It was hilarious! Hilarious to me, anyway, because by then I was leaning against a doorway and eventually I was dressed. I mean, I don't know, I think her tan took five times as long as mine? Chatty chat CHAT chat!
I ventured deeper into the bathroom complex to find the toilet. Here again, just massive amounts of space everywhere. It made my own bathroom, which we call the Golden Palace, look like the in-room lavatory at a Super 8. First I had to journey through a closet, fully expecting Narnia to be on the other end, and then a vanity area with mirrors on either side for a nice mise-en-abyme effect, and then finally to the pee pee pagoda. And there was music booming out everywhere from speakers in the walls and exciting lighting. I barely found my way out.
Then PN and I each gave the tanning girl $20 and we parted fast friends. When we stumbled back downstairs, dewy and fruit-smelling, the place had basically cleared out. We had been gone almost an hour, maybe we really were in Narnia. We ate some cheese dip and planned out how to pry T away from some drunk, intent girl who was explaining to her how the 1% need to be taxed at a lower rate because they are job creators. I decided that shrill, out of control laughter that would split the very ceiling was not the best tactic for pulling her away. Finally I just put my hand on her shoulder and said, "I'm sorry. Let's go." And later T was like, "OMG I kept glancing at you to get you to save me!" And I was like, "Not even."
So omg I have had so much fun typing this! Obviously. Then we all went home and when I walked into my house, still in the middle of our child-free weekend, Matt was all like, "Weeelllll, how was it?" And I said, "Sorry fella, stay over there, I'm tanning!" Also I smelled like pineapple-y dog pee.
The girl had told us that the tan would activate over the next twelve hours. And lo, it did. When I got up in the morning (after sleeping on a dark sheet that wouldn't show stains), I looked at myself in the mirror and went AAAAHHHH! I had last night's mascara on AND was seriously tan. I looked like a raccoon on vacation in Aruba. After I got the makeup off, it was a little less alarming.
So given that I didn't have any special plans and had just tanned for the hell of it, I rocked that savage tan to the preschool Storybook Stroll, several swim practices, karate classes, and a casual evening with friends and takeout food. Yesterday, at the playground, I saw the mom of a buddy of Hank's. She goes, "Wait, are you tan?" Like, what in the world?
But it looks good! I tried half heartedly to photograph it and you just can't tell. Picture me as I am, only a few shades darker. I would totally do it again, though I might have her do my face more lightly. She said that if you can get six girls together, she'll come do a house party, so I might do one closer to summer.
Oh, the big tanning revelation is the buns! Tanned buns! I have never seen my buns so tan and it really works. I see now why body builders/pageant queens do it. That area is a nice toasty brown and the thong lines are cute.
Now you really do know everything about me.
Thank you for letting me overshare. I hope that you have found some enjoyment from this relation. Wishing you toasty buns.