The Life of A Batty Broad

Good Intentions, Flawed Results

You Got It Set On Whore

The Batty Broad does not have many occasions for which I can dress up like a fancy grown-up girl.  My every day wardrobe consists of sweat pants, jeans and work out clothing with a variety of interchangeable t-shirts.  It’s like garanimals for adults.  With my (ahem) 30th high school reunion approaching I thought, here’s my opportunity to prove I still know how to dress like an adult!  So I bought a great dress that I had been coveting on Pin-up girl clothing for some time and dug some awesome high heels out of the back of my closet which gave me the distinct excitement of a little girl about to play dress up.  I was secretly high-fiving myself on my very grown up ensemble.

With a head filled with red-carpet moments in my fabulous dress, I started to ponder the second most important thing in dressing up like a grown-up – hair.  If there is anything that I have learned as a woman, and that statement is questionable, good hair can make or break an outfit.  As my giddy feelings of fashion triumph started to fade, I was faced with a never-ending dilemma – what to do with my hair.  If I were an ordinary woman with ordinary hair, this wouldn’t be such a problem but ordinary is not a trait that the Batty Broad possesses so obviously my hair is extraordinary – and not in a good way.  Mainly my hair is extraordinary at being difficult.  First of all, there is a lot of it.  A LOT.  Second, it’s very thick – like a heavy shag carpet thick.  And finally, it’s curly – very curly.  Contrary to popular belief this is not a desirous combination for women’s hair.  I usually receive a lot of eye-rolling when I complain about it but honestly it’s like  wrestling a head full of snakes sometimes.  I don’t have the option to just “put it up in a ponytail and go” like most women.  I can put it up in a ponytail but it looks more like a poodle than a person.  It’s bad.

I decided to solve the hair dilemma by just having someone else do it.  Someone with more patience and less inclination to burn me than myself.  My hairstylist recommended someone at her salon that does hair and make-up for weddings and I trust her so I booked an appointment.  The day of the reunion I was actually pretty excited about the idea of having my hair and make-up done since normally my make-up routine consists of washing my face and putting on lotion.  I showed up to the salon prepared with what I wanted for my hair but didn’t really think too much about make-up.  I figured that she did weddings, so how bad could it be?  Which makes me wonder why I even ask myself those questions because the answer is inevitably – BAD.

I sat in the chair and showed her some pics of what I wanted.  I know enough about doing my own hair and my daughter’s hair that what I was asking wasn’t too complicated.  Everything started out fine and my hair was coming along okay.  It wasn’t exactly what I wanted but it worked for my ensemble so I wasn’t unhappy with it.  After she finished with my hair she set up her make-up at another station and had me come over to her to get dolled up.  Literally.

I was sitting pretty far from the mirror and the lighting wasn’t that great so it was hard for me to tell if what she was doing was good or bad.  I thought it would be fun to wear some false eyelashes that night as my dress had a 50’s look so I brought some along for her to use.  About halfway through I started to get concerned when we were talking about eyesight and she started telling me that she really needed to get glasses because she couldn’t see well out of one eye.  Definitely NOT what you want to hear from the person who is putting on your make-up.

I was trying to relax and not get too worried when the next series of events made me start to feel like I had made a horrible mistake.  First I notice that one of my false eyelashes is not on correctly.  It only goes about 3/4 of the way across my eye.  When I explain that I don’t think this looks right, she tells me that I have “long eyes”.  Um, okay?  Regardless, I’m thinking, it shouldn’t look like I woke up from a hangover the night before with my false eyelashes still on.  She fixes it by adding in partial lashes and moving it.  Second, she has put on at least 3 coats of foundation.  Actually, it’s more like she painted on 3 coats of foundation.  When you are a woman who is a bit older and have a few wrinkles, several coats of foundation turn your wrinkles into crevasses.  Generally not the “look” you are going for unless you are playing Bette Davis in “Whatever Happened to Baby Jane”.  Third, I notice she keeps putting more eye shadow on me which is never a good thing.  You don’t have to wear blue eye shadow to look like a Hollywood harlot, you just have to wear layers of eye shadow.  At this point, I’m starting to believe that maybe she only does wedding make-up for clowns.  Finally, she is “finished” and asks me what I think.  What do I want to say?  I want to say, “I’m too scared to look” but I tell her it looks good so I can leave.  Adding insult to injury, I pay her for what I know is going to be a fiasco when I get into natural light.  She tells me to have fun and I leave though I secretly want to say, thanks for making me look like a two-bit whore’s equally whore-ish grandma.  I am not amused.

bettedavis

I am not wrong.  I leave the salon, get in my car and flip down the visor so I can really see my self in the mirror.  I…have…no….words for what appears before me.  All my brain can think of is a Simpsons episode where Homer decides to become an inventor and one of the items he invents is a make-up shotgun.  To test it out, he shoots it at Marge, covering her face in a thick coat of clown make-up.  Marge looks at the shotgun and reads the selection on the side and says to Homer, “Homer, you got it set on whore!”  Yep that is about what has happened here.  It might not have been a gun but my make-up session was definitely set on whore.

I throw on some giant sunglasses and head home knowing that I am going to have to show my boyfriend.  I prepare him by letting him know that the woman who did my make-up is secretly into clowns or drag queens.  He is great at maintaining an even facial expression (he teaches middle school children) and only manages to muster, “Yeah that’s a lot of make-up”.  Which is an understatement akin to “the sun is hot”.

This is what I think I look like:  

clown

This is what I actually look like (not much better):

1093935_10151619670447198_784016324_o

Meanwhile, my eye is starting to water.  Normally, this wouldn’t be that big of a deal for most people but I wear hard contact lenses so once something gets irritated, it’s a big problem.  I start trying to “fix” my face and by fix I mean breaking out the sandpaper, chisel and power wash.  I’m pretty sure my face is suffocating so I urgently try to save its life.  I decide to leave the lashes on but only because my actual eyelashes now have eyelash glue in them and I don’t have time to deal with that mess.  My eye continues to water which means that my right false eyelash is starting to come off.  Yep, this just keeps getting better and better.  I am tempted to go back to bed.  I end up taking the eyelashes off and putting on another pair.
It works.
Wait, no it doesn’t.
My eye continues to water.
I keep trying to fix my eyelash but wet eyes and glue just don’t go together.  Also, it is getting late and we have to go.  I decide to just bring my make-up and glue and hope for the best.  At least I look less like Tammy Faye Baker. At least a little.

By the time we get to the reunion things have not improved.  My eye is still watering and I have no choice but to take off the eyelashes and pick the eyelash glue out of my lashes in the car.  I then attempt to fix my eye make-up, put on some mascara on my glue infested real eyelashes and deal with my contact lens which continues to irritate my eye.  At some point I just had to say “this is as good as it’s going to get” and get out of the car.

The reunion itself was a ton of fun.  I reconnected with people I hadn’t seen in years and laughed and hugged and reminisced.  After awhile I forgot that my face had been a catastrophe just a short time ago and had a good time.

The good news is that you can learn from my endless mistakes.  Take my advice and stay away from women wielding foundation and eye shadow who need glasses.

You have been warned.

The Batty Broad

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This entry was posted on August 1, 2013 by in Batty, Blog and tagged , , , , , , , , .

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