1. How not to win friends and gain a new customers
2. How not to spend a half hour of free time
3. Do these caterpillars above my eyes scare you?
I visited a friend in hospital this morning, taking along two takeaway caffeine fixes . I bought an extra treat of two muffins. The worst bran muffins ever made. Obviously for the "no sugar" brigade but a huge, beautiful looking, dry, choc-a-block full of bran and bicarbonate soda with no flavor at all. Awful. It was a good visit and we had a few laughs, discussed the other patients in the ward and before the doctor arrived again, I left her in peace, hoping that the one bite of bran muffin she had would at least be good for something.
I had walked to the hospital, my car being in the garage for a service. The walk took me on a journey passed a "beauty salon" and, having a bit of time on my hands before I could collect my borrowed car, I thought it would be a good time to see if someone could maybe shape my eyebrows. Plucking eyebrows was a gift, taken for granted for so many years. It was something I could do while stuck in traffic using the rear view mirror. Not anymore. Glasses and a magnifying mirror and I still cannot do it. So for the last couple of years the R40 spent for a brow shaping is money well spent.
Esme at Beauty Express had a slot for me. Lucky day. I decided at the last minute to go the whole hog and have my eyelashes and brows tinted at the same time.
I should have realized I was in for a tough time when Esme made the first rudish comment while patting down those half-moon cotton wool pads under my eyes. "Do you have a problem with puffiness?" she said patting them down with slightly more force than the first seven pats. These cotton pads were obviously not staying in the correct position. "Not really, I do have some allergies at the moment" I lied (are my eyes that puffy, I slept pretty well last night, I thought to myself (encouragingly)).
"What colour?", she asked bluntly. "Black for eyelashes and eyebrows slightly darker?", I replied politely. "Slightly darker than black?" she asked (matter of factly). "We have black-black". "Heavens NO", I retorted. "Just slightly darker than they are now". She mumbled something.
Anyway she fiddled around, painted on the hot wax and generally took her time. My borrowed car was now waiting for me. My eyes started to itch, water and burn. Eventually they were cleaned and bathed. Lying down, with my hair in a towel, she held the magnifying mirror in front of my face.
Oh my word. Scary eyebrows (as close to black as can be), eyes blood red and watering, make-up all washed off. Not a pretty sight. Thank goodness for the fringe (pity I cut it on Sunday). What is my mother going to say? She always notices eyebrows and has been known to scold Dalene from across a crowded room about her eyebrows!!
Esme looked worried. Tears were rolling down my cheeks, I was looking for eyedrops in my handbag. She asked me if I was happy. What could I say? "Yes - just allergies", I replied (lied) (again). Then she hit me with a double whammy.
"I have noticed you have some broken veins and open pores on your nose" - she should tread lightly here. Puffy eyes, broken veins and open pores actually have nothing on the hairy caterpillars you have just given me above my eyes. I was now not sure if the tears were from the dye or unhappiness.
Suddenly, from behind her, she produced this little tube of Clarins Broken Vein, Open Pore and Under Eye Puffiness Miracle Cream for Mature Skins. I asked for a tissue, dabbed my tears and said "Maybe next time", paid the bill and slunked out the door, perching my sunglasses as high on the bridge of my nose as it would go.
I was dying to tell Gill the story but the reception office was full. Michael looked at me strangely but said nothing. Ellen came in, looked at me sympathetically and probably thought I had been crying. I had left my makeup at home as well.
Ok, how was your morning?