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I was just reading ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kittekaat’s last entry remarking on a recent experience with Mary Kay cosmetics and it reminded me of a story I could share.
To anyone who knows me, I’m not much of a makeup girl. I like a little lip color, but since I need a lot of lip balm anyhow, it isn’t a far stretch. As far as layers of foundation and creams and other assorted “goop”, it’s not my style. I’m perfectly content to be perfectly pallid.
I should also preface this by mentioning that this event took place in Rhode Island and my very good friend, Anna, was Puerto Rican.
That having been said, I begin my story. Anna was having one of those Mary Kay parties because one of her friends was trying to earn some extra money. Anna only knew this one woman and she wanted me to be there to support her, so I went. I had been to these parties before and I usually just cleaned my face and stopped at the moisturizer. Not a problem.
I showed up and the living room was beginning to fill with Puerto Rican and Mexican women. I helped serve some snacks and, when the cosmetician began, I retired to a corner. It was held half in Spanish and half in English so I listened to what I could and kept to myself. Anna and I watched as all the women took off the makeup they wore to the event, then I participated in the cleaning and moisturizing. I sat back thinking that I would just play the observer from that point on until I suddenly realized that after a bit of Spanish discussion, everyone was looking at me. Anna nudged me and said the woman wanted me to go sit next to her and use me as a model for makeup application. I couldn’t understand why she would want to demonstrate makeup application for other olive complected women on someone as extremely Caucasian as me. Nevertheless, I gathered all my reservations into a tin box, shut the lid and stuffed it under a sofa cushion as I went to sit on the chair at the head of the crowd.
I was a very polite model and just sat there as this woman painted my face. After half and hour or so of layering, she announced to the women that she was done and didn’t I look lovely. They all agreed and applauded… except Anna, who I had noticed was looking a bit strained. The party clearly coming to a conclusion, women were making orders on the forms and I busied myself helping Anna take trays of food scraps away. My face felt a bit constrained, much like when you were a kid and played in the mud and when the mud dried, it stretched and cracked across your skin when you moved it.
In the kitchen, Anna mentioned with a very concerned look on her face, that perhaps I should take a look in the mirror before I left the building and to please realize that this was only makeup and therefore only a temporary thing that could be washed off.
I dashed off to the bathroom and saw this hideous creature was already in there. I apologized and was about to leave when I recognized the sweater on the creature was my own. *gulp* I didn’t even recognize my face. I was at least seven shades darker than normal, had giant red blotches on my cheeks that surely indicated a raging fever, metallic blues and purples and violets banded above my eyes in a rainbow format, my lips were a shade of fire engine red that should indicate toxic hazard, there was enough black kohl around my eyes and eyelashes to equal about a year supply for the average ancient Egyptian Queen of 18th Dynasty… I looked like Tammy Faye’s protégé. I was flabbergasted.
I had planned to stay and help Anna clean up after the event but I felt this overwhelming urge to leave and begin the long process of scrubbing this mask off my face. I made my apologies to Anna who nodded understandingly and with an expression of great sympathy. I gathered my wits about me, managed to mold my face into a pleasant smile through the greasepaint, and walked into the living room where the ladies were gathered. I thanked them all for a wonderful time, made an excuse about having to get home and having a long drive ahead of me, and left the apartment.
I jogged with my face down toward the car, got in and spent the next half an hour wondering how to find my real skin again and if I’d need to rent a sandblaster. I pulled up to the house and noticed that not only was Mark home, but he had friends over. I drew a deep breath, pulled all my courage into me and walked in the door. I was met with gasps, crinkled expressions and a chorus of, “What happened to you?” in a range of tones that varied between concern, astonishment and absolute mirth. I plainly stated that it wasn’t my fault, I had met with an inter-racial accident and that I would handle it myself, no no, we need not call NATO, it would be okay. I explained that I would be in the bathroom attempting to rescue myself. If someone could perhaps boil me some water and perhaps have the number for renting a backhoe, I’m sure I could recover most of my face in time to go to work the next morning.
In all actuality, it actually took some doing to remove the makeup. I scrubbed my face raw in a few areas and the mascara and eyeliner were with me for a couple of days creating that oh so desirable raccoon look until it finally wore off.
The lengths I go to for my friends.
kittekaat’s last entry remarking on a recent experience with Mary Kay cosmetics and it reminded me of a story I could share.To anyone who knows me, I’m not much of a makeup girl. I like a little lip color, but since I need a lot of lip balm anyhow, it isn’t a far stretch. As far as layers of foundation and creams and other assorted “goop”, it’s not my style. I’m perfectly content to be perfectly pallid.
I should also preface this by mentioning that this event took place in Rhode Island and my very good friend, Anna, was Puerto Rican.
That having been said, I begin my story. Anna was having one of those Mary Kay parties because one of her friends was trying to earn some extra money. Anna only knew this one woman and she wanted me to be there to support her, so I went. I had been to these parties before and I usually just cleaned my face and stopped at the moisturizer. Not a problem.
I showed up and the living room was beginning to fill with Puerto Rican and Mexican women. I helped serve some snacks and, when the cosmetician began, I retired to a corner. It was held half in Spanish and half in English so I listened to what I could and kept to myself. Anna and I watched as all the women took off the makeup they wore to the event, then I participated in the cleaning and moisturizing. I sat back thinking that I would just play the observer from that point on until I suddenly realized that after a bit of Spanish discussion, everyone was looking at me. Anna nudged me and said the woman wanted me to go sit next to her and use me as a model for makeup application. I couldn’t understand why she would want to demonstrate makeup application for other olive complected women on someone as extremely Caucasian as me. Nevertheless, I gathered all my reservations into a tin box, shut the lid and stuffed it under a sofa cushion as I went to sit on the chair at the head of the crowd.
I was a very polite model and just sat there as this woman painted my face. After half and hour or so of layering, she announced to the women that she was done and didn’t I look lovely. They all agreed and applauded… except Anna, who I had noticed was looking a bit strained. The party clearly coming to a conclusion, women were making orders on the forms and I busied myself helping Anna take trays of food scraps away. My face felt a bit constrained, much like when you were a kid and played in the mud and when the mud dried, it stretched and cracked across your skin when you moved it.
In the kitchen, Anna mentioned with a very concerned look on her face, that perhaps I should take a look in the mirror before I left the building and to please realize that this was only makeup and therefore only a temporary thing that could be washed off.
I dashed off to the bathroom and saw this hideous creature was already in there. I apologized and was about to leave when I recognized the sweater on the creature was my own. *gulp* I didn’t even recognize my face. I was at least seven shades darker than normal, had giant red blotches on my cheeks that surely indicated a raging fever, metallic blues and purples and violets banded above my eyes in a rainbow format, my lips were a shade of fire engine red that should indicate toxic hazard, there was enough black kohl around my eyes and eyelashes to equal about a year supply for the average ancient Egyptian Queen of 18th Dynasty… I looked like Tammy Faye’s protégé. I was flabbergasted.
I had planned to stay and help Anna clean up after the event but I felt this overwhelming urge to leave and begin the long process of scrubbing this mask off my face. I made my apologies to Anna who nodded understandingly and with an expression of great sympathy. I gathered my wits about me, managed to mold my face into a pleasant smile through the greasepaint, and walked into the living room where the ladies were gathered. I thanked them all for a wonderful time, made an excuse about having to get home and having a long drive ahead of me, and left the apartment.
I jogged with my face down toward the car, got in and spent the next half an hour wondering how to find my real skin again and if I’d need to rent a sandblaster. I pulled up to the house and noticed that not only was Mark home, but he had friends over. I drew a deep breath, pulled all my courage into me and walked in the door. I was met with gasps, crinkled expressions and a chorus of, “What happened to you?” in a range of tones that varied between concern, astonishment and absolute mirth. I plainly stated that it wasn’t my fault, I had met with an inter-racial accident and that I would handle it myself, no no, we need not call NATO, it would be okay. I explained that I would be in the bathroom attempting to rescue myself. If someone could perhaps boil me some water and perhaps have the number for renting a backhoe, I’m sure I could recover most of my face in time to go to work the next morning.
In all actuality, it actually took some doing to remove the makeup. I scrubbed my face raw in a few areas and the mascara and eyeliner were with me for a couple of days creating that oh so desirable raccoon look until it finally wore off.
The lengths I go to for my friends.