Tuesday, April 26, 2011

Tanning Fail, but Still Win Because I Am Tan **UPDATED**

I've said it before, and I'll say it again when my skin looks like a leather handbag: I am tanorexic. I love to be tan, whether it's from the actual sun or a tanning bed, it makes no difference. I just hate to be pasty. Lecture me all you want about wrinkles and UV rays, but mark my words, I will go to my grave the color of terra cotta.

Before you start wagging your finger at me about how unhealthy I am, the whole point of this post is that I tried something new and NOT unhealthy to get tan: SPRAY TAN. Not the kind you buy at Walmart, but an actual spray tan from an actual salon. And before you start rolling your eyes, I did not turn out the color of Snookie. I have a lovely glow, if I do say so myself. And while I'm thrilled with the results, the process, persay, was not exactly what I expected.

I had never tried a spray tan before, and I was a little leary, having seen terrifying spray tans on Toddlers and Tiaras. And also on Jersey Shore, Jerseylicious, Mob Wives, and pretty much any show about people in New Jersey. But based on these shows, I had an idea in my head of what the experience of spray tanning would be like: I go into a private room, lock the door, put on a shower cap, step into a booth, alone, and get hosed down with tanner like I'm going through a car wash. Or, I go into a private room, put on a shower cap and some kind of cover-up for my lady parts, and a gal comes in and sprays only my essential parts with tanner. In my head, those were the only two possible outcomes.

I did not know that my salon utilizes a third option. The kind where I go into a private room, put on ONLY a shower cap, awkwardly stand there and try to figure out how to cover my lady parts, waiting for a gal who comes in and gets all up in ALL my parts, hosing me down with tanner, while I'm still trying to figure out how to keep my no-no square covered.

I was informed of option three when I got to the salon, and it was too late to back out. But as fate would have it, the gal who does the spray tans is the same gal who does the waxing. The same girl who used to do my waxing. She's the only person in this world who's seen the scary places of my body that should never be seen by the naked eye (read: my bum crack). Not only has she seen those places, but she's waxed them. So, I suppose that if I had to stand naked in front of anyone, awkwardly for several minutes, then she'd be the person I'd choose, because she's already seen it all.

You'd think that I would've been perfectly comfortable in the newd in front of her, but, I was not. I was not "prepared" to be seen naked. As in, I hadn't even shaved my legs for like a month. I'd come straight from work, so I felt all greasy and swassy, I'd started to sweat as soon as I heard the words "totally naked", and I was a bumbling mess. She told me she'd give me three minutes to undress and then she'd be back.

It took all of about twenty seconds for me to undress and put on the shower cap. Please to enjoy a self-illustrated pictorial on how I spent the remaining two minutes and forty seconds waiting for her to come back in: (Illustrator's note: I added censorship bars where I thought necessary. Pretty much just for the sake of my brother. Thank you.)(Also, I am aware that I drew my hands and feet anatomically incorrect. Everything else is perfectly to scale.)

What's funny is that, as you can see from the pictures, I was least concerned with keeping my whoody-whaty covered, and more worried about keeping my stomach and boobs concealed. Or at least trying to stand in the most flattering way possible.

I finally gave up trying to cover myself and accepted the fact that it was impossible to have any shred of dignity whilst being spray tanned by someone who's already seen your everything.

She was so nice about the whole thing, and kept friendly conversation going. I was finally starting to relax a little, when she told me to do a lunge. And this, my friends, is what I did:
Not a lunge. She politely showed me how to do a lunge, and I said to her, "Look at me! Are you really surprised that I don't know the difference between a lunge and a squat?" Apparently what I was doing wasn't really a squat, either. I don't know what I was doing, besides making a complete and total ass of myself.

But a tan ass, nontheless.

**UPDATE** For those of you who haven't gotten your fill of Bone Junior TMI, you can find my original post about waxing here . And for those of you who can't get enough Bone Junior TMI, the original illustrations are up for auction.

Saturday, April 23, 2011

Never Trust a Big Butt and a Smile

Roller Derby: Session 2, Week 3

I can't believe we're already three weeks into this session with the Red Rockettes. I missed the first week and have been on a blogging hiatus thanks to a much-needed vacation to Texas. You know how they say "Everything is bigger in Texas"? I think they should change it to "Everything Gets Bigger in Texas", because that's what happens to my butt, thanks to the amazing BBQ, seafood (I actually tried fried alligator), and my sister's amazing key lime pie.

But there are times when a big butt actually comes in handy: dropping it like it's hot, trying to attract a black guy, and blocking in roller derby. So thank you, Texas, for your role in helping me to achieve two out of three. In case you're having trouble guessing which one I haven't mastered due to my big butt, suffice it to say that I'm still single. Not that I've "mastered" blocking by any means, and the last time I dropped down to get my eagle on, I strained my groin...so, I guess my point is that I have a big butt, and it comes in handy on the track.

The vets got to scrimmage the whole time this week (holy crap, can you believe that I'm technically a vet now!! NEITHER CAN I!) and it was our second No-Pants Scrimmage. Last week, we practiced actually hitting for real (well, as real as you can hit when you're still learning), so I was determined to at least try to get in some good hits at the scrimmage. Here's what I've learned about hitting:

1. The size of the girl has almost nothing to do with her ability to hit, or take a hit. There are some teeny girls who have knocked me down hard and I never saw them coming.

2. The faster they are, the harder they fall.

3. If you're cruising along and you see a big butt and a smile in front of you, don't trust her cause that girl is poooooooooooooooooiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiissooooooooooooon! You have to sing it out loud. Trust me, you'll have it stuck in your head for the rest of the day.

4. Hitting is really, really fun.

You know what else is really fun? Playing Red Rover with all the vets and rookies combined, making it through the game without looking like an ass, then tripping over the track outline (much like an electrical cord) at the very end when everyone comes together to do the No Pants Cheer. Don't worry, I made sure that everyone knew there was a pebble on the track there.

I've decided to end this post with a photo that encompasses all of the reasons I love the Red Rockettes; first and foremost because of the shared sense of humor. Please to enjoy the following photo, which I like to call "Where My Hose At?"; or, "I Don't Understand How This Helps Me Learn How to Keep My Elbows In While Skating, But Okay."

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

Red Rockettes Expo Bout Deput

I know it's been forever since I've updated, but I wanted to at least give a quick summary of how our first public scrimmage went. Thanks to Brusier's husband, Jason, the most incredible fall of the night was caught on film. Also thanks to Ruby for being a good sport about having her bum out for the world to see.

That's Ruby, in the striped no-pants and fishnets, making her initial descent...

...and this is Ruby's final descent: knees down, hands splayed, ass up for all to see...and her MOUTH ON THE CONCRETE (see inset picture).
This is what happens when your mouth takes the brunt of your fall. Totally badass.
Now this is what happens when you're posing for a picture and your skates fly out from under you, causing your bum to take the brunt of your fall. Totally not badass, and totally Bone.

Monday, April 04, 2011

Roller Derby: Bonus Week 13: No Pants Night

You read that right - No Pants Night. You may be saying, "What, pray tell, is No Pants Night?" Well, I'll show you.That, my friends, is No Pants Night. See me with my purple tights and no pants? Now enjoy my mad rhyming skillz:

No pants Ruby, no pants Bone;
Never so much booty have I shown.

No pants blockers form a no pants wall,

Gina on her no pants did fall.

No pants Jammer,

No pants pack;

No pants skating around the track.

Teeny little black ones and fishnets galore;

Manna wonders, "Do I look like a whore?"

Disco Pony rocks shiny no pants;
While Bruiser demonstrates perfect derby stance.

No pants Wanton, no pants Blue;
No pants derby is the thing to do.

No pants Bruiser has skillz that are honed;
But in the end, Bruiser gets no pants Boned.

Everyone got into the spirit of things for the last practice of our first 12-week course. We were all so shaken up and anxious from the week before that Wanton declared a No Pants Night to get us out of our comfort zones, help us relax, and most of all, to remind us all that we are there to have fun. And it really worked - I felt totally uninhibited (both figuratively and literally) and it was the most fun night of derby yet. "1-2-3, NO PANTS!"