Friday, March 9, 2012


Let me just say that I had the best of intentions and I take full responsibility for the ramifications of my actions.

That being said here is the story of a spray tan gone horribly wrong.

It all started this past weekend when I realized I was really, really pale. I leave for a cruise on the 18th and considering my plan is to lay on the deck in the sun with a book my pale skin was not going to do very well. If I can get a base tan then I tan really, really well, but it takes a bit of work. I decided that I would take matters into my own hands and go to the tanning salon for the two weeks prior to the trip.

I went, paid my money, bought my lotion and day one went for 8 minutes. It was fine, no burn at all, so day 2 I bumped it to 10 minutes. That was a mistake. I got a bit, well, crispy. Tan and Tone was running a special yesterday that all their tans were $1 and the magic tan was $10. After talking to the girls that work there I decided I would try a magic tan, because I couldn't get in a tanning bed due to the burn and Junior League Charity Ball is tomorrow night. I thought that was just the PERFECT solution.

Now I have never done this before, generally I am a Jergens Natural Glow kind of a girl. And I also have a tanning spray gun, so I've done that myself and had sweet Mary airbrush me too. Both of those were fine and I figured this wouldn't be that much different.


Okay so I watch the video, learn the poses, am explained it all again by an employee. Forty five seconds later I am tan. But I don't see much. The girl that explained it all said that wiping it off was the most important part. I suppose I may be too analytical because I really needed to understand how this all actually worked, because in my extremely logical mind the jets sprayed the tanning stuff on for about 8 seconds per side and then I jumped out and wiped it off, how on earth was this going to leave me tan?

Well, kids, let me tell you what, learn from me, it does. So I did the wiping, still worried that I would have no color in the morning. I went home and avoided water for the correct amount of time. I woke up this morning and looked in the mirror...O.M.G. I scrubbed as much as I could before work. When I got to work I went straight to my cave and stayed there. I IM'ed my friend Brianne and asked her to come look to see if I looked like Cheet-o. She thought I was wearing orange, not that I let the spray tan gods work their magic on me.

Here's what I learned:
  • use the barrier cream and use a lot of it
  • when you wipe off the tanning solution keep it far, far, far, far away from the places with the barrier cream
  • cuticles and palms, even if you put barrier cream on still end up looking orange
  • you can remove some of the Cheet-o-ness with rubbing alcohol
Brianne's exact words were "well it's not good." I guess I know that if I want an honest opinion I have a friend for it! :) She left and I rubbed on my skin with rubbing alcohol. Apparently the really bad place was around and on my nose. When she came back over to check on me (because I wouldn't leave my desk without approval that I wouldn't frighten people) she said "oh it looks so much better! I didn't realize how bad it really was until I see it looking better now!" I really, really, really love her!

So that is my tale of the spray tan. I'm not going to say I'll never do it again, though the idea of someone airbrushing me is sounding like a MUCH better plan, but I will take some valuable lessons from this experience. Tomorrow may be Charity Ball, but I'm not taking a date, just hanging out with wonderful girlfriends who will get a huge laugh out of this little adventure and really, if you can't laugh at your own flubs then what fun is life?

My feet after an INSANE amount of exfoliating tonight...


That letter means that those crazy people at OU are going to give me a Masters degree! This also is the reason that I've been completely absent on the good ol' blog. I finished my comprehensive exam which was a twelve page paper that incorporated facebook, church, young adults lacking permanent, consistent emotional support, existentialism, and my future plans. Sound random enough? Well apparently I put them together in a coherent manner worthy of graduate level work and they are going to let me graduate in May.

Last week I also found out that I was invited into Phi Kappa Phi, an honor society for the top ten percent of graduating graduate students and Golden Key Honour Society, which is an honor society for cool people (okay really I haven't the slightest clue and I got the invite last fall and ignored it, but then decided that I wanted more flair for my cap and gown).

After all of that excitement I got my final grade for grad school last night: A. That means that when I finish my Masters I will graduate with a final GPA of 4.0.

I would be lying if I said I wasn't completely and totally excited about all of this. When I was in high school I graduated with honors and had a GPA over 4.0 (thanks weighted grades), then I got to college. I was really good at undergrad, at least the social aspect; the school aspect I really didn't care about and my GPA reflected it.

Grad school was not in the plan. Three years ago I was planning a disaster of a wedding. I wanted to be a wife and mom, and while I see nothing wrong with either of those things that wasn't the direction my life path ended up going and I'm okay with that. Wife and mom are still on my to do list, but I really love where my life is at. That being said I did get sad today when I was ordering my announcements and saw undergrad couples that were purchasing all their stuff together and knowing that when graduation rolls around they will take pictures together and have those memories, together. I'm sad that I won't have those graduation pictures with whoever "the one" is. In the end it will all work out and I know that. I also know that had I been dating someone during the craziness that was me in grad school it would have never worked. I rather enjoyed being able to pull all nighters and then retreat to the pool or the comfort of my bedroom to watch Sex and the City or Dawson's Creek. Had I been in a relationship I would have, knowing me, sacrificed some part of this experience and I wouldn't feel about it the way that I do, and I'm really, really proud of myself.

All in all the last twenty six months have been busy, crazy, fun, and completely and totally worthwhile. In sixty four short days I will walk across a stage in a sparkly decorated cap (more on that later) at Lloyd Noble Center, hopefully with some crazy kids screaming and yelling and blowing air horns, and they will give me a Masters. Now that I have the school bug I don't think it's going away any time soon. I've already decided that I'm going to get my counseling license and a Ph.D. is completely not out of the realm of reality (I really want the poufy hat!).

Who knows where I will be in another three years because where I sit now is not at all what I could have ever imagined one thousand ninety six days ago (yes I counted Leap Year day :)), but I wouldn't change it for anything.