Do-It-Yourself beauty products gone wrong...

You know what?  I’m 31 years old….there are some things I should have figured out about myself by now, and one of those things is that Do-It-Yourself beauty products are NOT designed for people like me.  These things should have warning labels on them to remind us.  Something along the lines of “This product is unsuitable for people prone to mishaps and/or incapable of following simple instructions without ending up burnt, cut, bald, violently ill or permanently disfigured.”

Every now and then though, I’m inspired to give it all another go despite past experiences that SHOULD leave me (and have, quite literally) scarred for life and determined never to fall prey to the same misfortune again.

Today I found myself in the midst of another episode of DIY home beauty product disasters.  *sigh*  I’m trying to save money at the moment, basically that’s what it comes down to.  Ideally I should have gone to the hairdressers and got my hair colour done and my eyebrows waxed, then followed it up with a facial and a nice lunch.  But instead I decided to save myself some serious cash and have my own little lovely relaxing “day spa” type experience at home.

First, I purchased a permanent hair colour (for the first time) when I got the groceries which involved 20 minutes of examining six billion different boxes all claiming to do amazing things.  The one with the picture of an avocado on the front won me over…it looked very convincingly natural and beautifying.  Once home I googled “home made facial recipe” and found one made with lemon juice, coconut oil and honey.  Images of me with my naturally induced glowing skin, flicking my thick shiny dark brown hair around my shoulders (it’s grown somehow too) fill my head.  This is going to be great!

So, I wasn’t silly about it….I spent a good few minutes reading the instructions of the hair colour first.  I mix the different things together and shake the bottle vigorously.  I strip off my top and bra as I don’t want to get stuff all over my pretty things.  And then I set about squirting it all over my head, “massaging it through from the roots to the tips”.  Too easy!!  I bundle my hair on top of my head and pull off the gloves, most satisfied with my efforts.  Time for the eyebrows! I wasn’t silly enough to give home waxing another go (long story, also with sad ending) so I get out the tweezers and pluck away enthusiastically.  My interest starts to wane a bit on the second eyebrow though and I give up halfway through.  I decide one nicely plucked brow is better than none, right?  

Facemask time!! This is the bit I’m excited about.  I lather the goop all over my face feeling quite the lady of leisure…massaging as I go.  But quite suddenly, my eyebrows feel like they are on fire.  What the!?  Oh right, lemon juice on freshly plucked eyebrows may not be the best thing.  I persist though, wincing as I finish off.  It’s dripping a bit down my neck and nose but I don’t lose motivation.

Right, so that’s done and  I’ve got 10 minutes left before I need to wash my hair out.  I check how it’s going.  Hmm…it’s very black.  It’s kind of on the skin around the hairline too and I look very much like a lego man with his black square hair that you can pull off.

So…I decide to relax and eat some lunch while I wait the ten minutes.  I wander out to the fridge and find a leftover turkey rissole from last night’s dinner.  I zap it in the microwave then sit at the bench to eat it.  When I open my mouth I get a dribble of honey, lemon juice and coconut oil in my mouth.  The first mouthful of rissole burns my tongue, it’s way too hot and as I’m trying to do that sexy mouth hanging open flapping around thing you do to get some cold air in and save my taste buds, a piece falls down and next thing my left boob is scalded with a big chunk of half chewed turkey rissole.  How this happened I do not understand because it’s not exactly poking out all that far to be sufficiently considered in “the line of fire” so go figure.  I quickly pull it off and race to the sink to rinse it with cool water….as I’m doing so I notice something strange.  Black dots in random places over my chest, stomach, and arms.  Huh?  I look closer….oh even on my ankle!  I suddenly realise this is the hair colour that I obviously flicked everywhere as I applied it.  Excellent, I look like a cheetah.  Certain it will come off in the shower, I get back to finishing my rissole quickly so I can get to the rinsing out part.

I have two minutes left so decide to put my shoes back in the wardrobe…I’m so productive you see, not a minute is wasted in this house!  As I lean down to put them on the rack, my head makes contact with a row of dresses hanging down.   Damn it!  Black marks all over them.  I rip them off their hangers and run (still half naked mind you) down to the laundry to submerge them in a bucket and try to save them.

Right, let’s get this stuff out before I do anymore damage.  I enter the bathroom and note black dots all over the floor tiles.  Hmmm.  Whoops.  I examine my lego hair in the mirror while I wait for the water to heat and notice big red splotches on my face from the “mask”.  Lovely.  Not exactly the healthy glow I was aiming for.

As I’m rinsing the colour out in the shower, the grouting is the next thing to be splashed and blackened….but I’m at the point where I’m like “whatever everything is covered in black spots”.  I am still a cheetah….the spots don’t wash off my body and I’m trying to rinse the “mask” off but the oil just slides around my face and my eyebrows and left boob are burning under the hot water.

Somehow, the hair colour is mostly a success (black spots everywhere aside), it’s true that the roots are obviously a much lighter colour than the rest of my hair (it SAID to avoid massaging it into the scalp!) but still…I’m just pleased I didn’t end up with a permanent lego hair look.  It’s now three hours later and the red splotches on my face have faded (happy days!) but the glow never came.  My eyebrows came through relatively unscathed and my left boob has only a very superficial turkey rissole shaped burn.

So I suppose I shouldn’t be too disheartened.  Things could definitely be worse.  Like the time I inadvertently purchased tanning lotion thinking it was hand cream.  That one took three hours of soaking my hands in straight bleach to fix.  Or the time as a teenager that I was shaving my legs in the shower and I reached up to scratch my head with the razor in my hand.  That took about six months for the bald patch to grow back.  

Or the time I was driving home to get ready for a big night out and in the afternoon sun, I flicked the rear view mirror down to check myself out and was repulsed to see I had a GINORMOUS big moustache that somehow I had never ever noticed before.  I immediately pulled into a chemist to purchase hair removal cream, holding my hand over my top lip as I was served to hide the hideous growth there.  I raced home to lather the cream on my lip, relieved as soon as it was sitting there.  But when I wiped the cream off, yes the hair was gone but I was left with a flaming red line above my lip that just got angrier and redder when I tried to sooth it with moisturizer.  I had to coat on about 87 layers of foundation to try to hide it and was left with a brownish reddish very odd looking bar above my lip.

Not to mention that when I first discovered the joys of plucking your eyebrows, I got ever so slightly carried away by the whole process and from the ages of 15 to about 17 I had no eyebrows.  Those are the photos I try not to look at hanging on Mum and Dads walls.

So really, in the grand scheme of things, today’s mishaps were indeed very minor.  But they still left me feeling a little frazzled and very tempted to open the bottle of wine sitting there for later tonight.  I suppose, on a positive note, my 4 year old niece will be most delighted with my cheetah look when she sees me tomorrow!

Meditation and stick holding...

Okay so as a shift worker I have a lot of issues with sleep, or lack thereof.

Someone at work the other night was banging on about how she uses these “meditation” type audio files on her ipod to help her have a power nap pre night shift.  It sounded like something I might like to try I decided.

Sometimes I wear beaded bracelets and I quite like a bit of yoga so I can see myself being a person who meditates.  Suddenly I have images of myself being this calm and quiet person who kind of floats into a room and fills the atmosphere with a sense of serenity.  People will envy me.  Wish they could have my quiet and controlled composure.  Never again will I be someone who screeches at my children when for the 18^th time that day I have to tell them to put their shoes away (like seriously?  How many pairs do they have and need to put on and take off in one single day?).  No no.  I’ll be the mother who calmly explains to the children in a soft and soothing tone that it would be really quite lovely if they put their shoes away and made our place of living tidier.

It’s going to change my life I decide. 

I’ll do it on a daily basis. 

I get quite excited about it.  I jump onto a completely legal and legitimate website for downloading audio files and download about 87 million different files.  I’m not sure which I’ll like the best you see.  And if I’m doing this every day, I’ll need some variety.

So later that afternoon I am ready for my transformation.  I have a shower, to relax me.  I close the blinds to darken the room.  Position myself on the bed.  I scroll through my ipod and hit a random newly downloaded track and smile to myself smugly.

Queue peaceful sounding music.  That’s nice I think.  Very relaxing.  An Owl hoots quite loudly in the background.

I raise my eyebrows and open my eyes.  An owl?  Really?

Okay okay Sandy, so it’s an owl. That’s peaceful.  Close your eyes again and relax.

A woman’s monotone voice suddenly bursts into my ears.

“Close your eyes and make yourself perfectly comfortable.  Just completely relax.  Breeeeaaaaath deeply and relaaaaxxxxxx completely.  Breath through your nose and exhale through you mouth.  Verrry deeply.  Very.  Very deeply. And feel calm and peaceful.  Relaxed and at ease. Calm and peaceful.  Relaxed and at ease.   Breath deeply and relax completely….”

Hmm, it’s a bit repetitive.  But maybe that’s how it relaxes you Sandy. 

“Breath through your nose and exhale through your mouth…”

Except I can’t frigging breath through my nose.  I have a cold.  It’s full of snot.  I decide to improvise and breath in AND out through my mouth.  It’s a bit unconventional I suppose, and start to wonder if it still work.

“Very deeply.  Very. Very. Relaxed.”

I’m really not relaxed.  My eyes open again.  I feel quite silly.  Focus Sandy.  Keep trying.  I picture that floaty calm version of myself, the new Sandy, and close my eyes again.

“And feel calm and peaceful.  Relaxed and at ease.”

Okay so this business continues for several long awkward minutes.  The breathing.  The Relaxing and being at ease.  I kind of start to relax eventuall, so this saying stuff over and over must have some sort of effect.  Then things start to get interesting.

“And now you’re alone, standing outside on a moonlit mountain.”

Oh.  Okay.  A mountain hey?  At night.  On my own?  My shoulders and neck tense a little.  This is not my kind of thing lady.  This is not relaxing.  This is like something out of a horror movie.  Fat chance you’d ever find me out in a forest on a moonlit mountain in the middle of the night.  Concentrate Sandy, just picture the moon and stuff.

“….and it feels good to be here.”

Debatable.

“…feel the cool breeze on your skin as you look up at the blanket of stars…”

Ohhhh. That’s more like it.  I like that. 

“…and listen to the sounds of the night.”

The owl is back.

“Percieve this very very vividly. You’re surrounded by giant pines, ash and oak trees that are illuminated by the full moon.  Breath deeply, the aroma of nature…the pines, a hint of wild sage.”

But I have no idea what that stuff smells like. And my nose is all stuffy. Just picture the trees Sandy. You can do that.

“You’re relaxed and at ease here on the mountain because a part of you is always here. Always in touch with your karmic roots.”

My what?  Did she say karmic roots?  Ummm…

“always aligned with nature and drawing upon the subtle energy.  Be in the environment…”

She stops talking and I hear soft music for quite sometime.  This.  Is.  Weird.  I’m reallllly not relaxed right now.  Actually I’m kind of confused. About the forest and the moon and the energy from the pine trees and sage.

I start to feel a bit uncomfortable.  Like I’m doing something I don’t want to get caught doing.  Lucky I locked the door.  It’s like when I used to turn the TV down real quiet and watch snippets of “Melrose Place” when I was 14….which was totally banned in our house.  I was on high alert the whole time in case someone walked in.  There is no one else home right now but I’m still freaking out a little that someone will suddenly burst in and be like “what are you listening to? Show me!” and then mock me relentlessly.

But I persist. I’m quite curious about what might happen next.  And rightly so as it turns out.

“And it’s now time to draw down the universal energy of the stars, so imagine yourself drawing down the light, drawing down the energy of the stars…..”

Hmmm.  Righteo.  I’ll give that a go.  Trying to picture the trees and the moon and stars that are super shiny. Oh and smell the wild sage.

“…. The positive powers of the universe. Perceive this energy in the form of an illumination that enters your crown shakra on the top of your head.”

I’m sorry the what of my head?  Shakra?  What the hell is a shakra?  It sounds kind of rude. Okay now I’m really really not sure about this.  And I am definitely not relaxed.

“Draw down the energy and allow it to become your reality. The universal energy of the stars.  Draw down the light.  The positive powers of the universe. The star light. The love light. Let it happen.  Let it be. …..”

She keeps banging on about lights and energy and stuff for a bit longer. I start thinking about afternoon tea.

“……and as if in response to your thoughts, a magnificent white horse trots out of the trees *neighing sound in background* and stops about twenty yards away…..”

Eyes open.  A HORSE!!??  For real!?  That’s awesome.  Totally was not expecting that!  Love it.  Ha!

I press pause.  I pull the earphones out.  I pick up my phone from next to the bed and  log into facebook.

Stuff meditation.  Let’s read some of those funny e-card things people put on their statuses sometimes.

So there you go.  It was not the roaring success or life changing experience I expected it to be.  But hey I had a go.  Perhaps I needed to spend more time finding a more appropriate form of meditation to download?

I suck at relaxation type activities anyway so I really should know better.  I remember when David and I were in Bali we went for this couples massage thing where we lay on tables next to each other and have massages.

Chicky babe massage lady tells me to close my eyes and relax.  I close my eyes.  I lay very, very still.  I hear them fumbling around with stuff and I start to worry about what’s going to happen.  What is she going to rub on me?  Where will she rub it?  I don’t want hot rocks.  Will she use hot rocks?  Something smells funny.  I’m dying to open my eyes and see what’s going on but I want to look like I know what I’m doing.  Like I’m totally cool with whatever is about to happen.

About halfway through the massage….chicky babe moves my arms around.  Alright, that’s fine I think, repositioning me for something. That’s cool.

Next thing I know I’m holding something in my arms in front of me.  Feels like a stick of some sort.  Huh?  What is it!?  What am I holding?  I reeaaaally want to know.  But I keep my eyes closed cause, like, whatever.  I know all about the stick thing.  Done this a million times before.  Meh.  Right?

After several minutes the foreign object is removed from my hands and things go back to somewhat normal.

Later, after the massage is finished and we are walking away, David and I are sharing our experiences like “argh I hated it when they cracked my toes hey?”

So I say “And what the hell was that stick thing all about?”

David looks at me with raised eyebrows.

“What stick thing?” he says.

“You know, when they made you hold the stick or whatever it was?”

“Sandy, I didn’t hold a stick.  What are you talking about?”

Oh dear heavens.  Chicky babe has taken a video of me half naked holding a broomstick or sex object of some sort and posted it on youtube.  Oh, the humiliation!!

So perhaps in future I ought to steer clear of all “alternative” types of therapy then hey?  Although someone was telling me something the other day about these ear wax candles……

My internal dialogue on a 5km run around the neighbourhood

*Start timer on letterbox*  Right Sandy, GO!  *Run 5 paces* Did I start the timer right? I’ll spew if I get home and realise it wasn’t going. *Stop running, turn around go back.  Check timer, it’s on.  Restart timer. Start running again.  Hope no one saw me do that*

Okay, let’s do this Sandy.  This feels great doesn’t it?  Damn I’m so healthy and fit.  Yeah, I rock. Love running……*Round corner of first block* This sucks.  Stuff this.  I want to go home.  Keep running Sandy, don’t be a sooky-la-la.  But I have a runny nose.  I need a tissue.  Pee?  Do I need to pee?  I think I need to pee.  Argh.  Woe is me.  I should go home and get a tissue and wee.  The postman is right there, he’s watching Sandy, pretend you are fit and keep running.  Don’t want the postman thinking you are a crap runner. 

It’s frigging hot.  Who wears tights to run Sandy, really?  Idiot.  I want to take them off.  Shorts, next time wear shorts.  You always wear shorts, why would you wear tights?  Cause you didn’t wash that’s why.  You’re a crap runner and crap homemaker. Oh, oh, oh, yay!  Downhill.  Savour the moment Sandy, savour the moment. 

ARgh I’m so over this song, why did I put it on my playlist?  Must remember to take it off later.  And add that irritating song the kids like. The one with the dirty dancing lyrics in it.  By that dog person.  Fox terrior?  Pittbull.  That’s it.  I’ll add that, it’s good running music.  Wait, isn’t that why I added this song I want to delete? 

Oh no.  Oh no. Uphill. I hate this hill, I hate this hill, I hate this hill.  You can do this Sandy.  You rock.  Feel that jiggle in your thighs?  You need to do this.  I. Want. To. Die.  I’m never running again.  Never. 

Oh, another runner.  She’s slower than me.  Ha!  I’m fitterer than her.  Run past her Sandy, stop huffing and puffing though.  Pretend you are all cool and calm and this is easy.  Hope she can’t see my thighs jiggling.  Frigging tights.  Shorts Sandy, shorts. *Runs past other innocent jogger*  Don’t fist pump the air Sandy, that’s too much.  Hope she didn’t hear Bieber blasting in my eardrums as I ran past.  It would lose the effect I was hoping for.

Am I halfway yet?  Must not stop and walk.  Need good time.  Aw man, look at that chick.  She’s fiterer than me.  Faster than me.  Bet she’s looking at me thinking what I did about lady Jane back there.  Damn it.  Run faster Sandy, faster!  She’s wearing shorts.  She’s not an idiot like you wearing your tights.

I’m awesome, I haven’t stopped.  Oh and I like this new pink song, this will make me run faster.  Yeah!  Go Sandy! *runs 20 paces at faster, stronger speed* ARgh.  This sucks.  I need to blow my nose and pee.  *Goes back to regular pace, picturing a strong pair of fabric scissors and hacking the tights off*

Never.  Ever.  Running.  Again.  Ohhh what’s that wrapper on the ground there?  Looks like some type of new twisties.  Must look at the shops later.  No Sandy, no twisties.  Feel that jiggling Sandy, feel that jiggling.  Must run outside more frequently instead of treadmill.  Will do it three times a week instead of one.  Treadmill is sooky-la-la.  If I was on the treadmill right now I could take these tights off though.

Okay the end is in sight.  You can do this.  Drink. Tissue.  Toilet.  Drink.  Tissue.  Toilet.  Drink.  Tissue.  Toilet.  Run.  Run.  Run.  Never running again.  Want.  To.  Die.  Run. Run.  Run.

*hits timer on letterbox* YAY!!! 24:20.  I rock.  You did it Sandy!  *looks around to see if anyone sees how awesome I am.  No.  Damn it.  Struts, huffing and puffing around back of house.  Shows the guinea pigs the timer, notes their look of amazement.  Stretching, breathing coming back to normal, sweat everywhere.  Drinks some water* 

Actually, I don’t think I need to pee.  These tights are really quite comfortable.  Maybe I will wear them again when running after all.  Not so bad.  Man I love running.  That was so much fun!

Thank you for your assistance predictive text...

Yes when I started with "We really should..." the next word I was looking for quite possibly could have been:

"Rump"
"Stor"
"Pump"
"Puns"
"Runs"
"Suns"

and those words probably would have fit just as well as "stop" which is what I was actually after, and in fairness you did EVENTUALLY suggest it for me.

So handy modern technology isn't it?

Construction workers and tights worn as pants

Been a while huh? I actually have nothing of significance to write in here either, but stumbled across the link and thought I would share more random rubbish I have thought about recently.

*About construction workers. We live in a new suburb right, and so walk past many a construction site on a regular basis and are therefore subjected to the whole wolf-whistling and ever so complimentary hollerings that happens when you are female and happen across a scenario such as this. I've discovered something bizarre. When I walk past, and hear the not-so-sublte shouts and whistles I mutter to myself what pigs they are, I even almost make that "tsk tsk" sound and shake my head to myself. How revolting! What, like they REALLY think we enjoy that? Treating women like some kind of object, I mean honestly!

But....then you walk past sometimes and there's nothing. You wait for it, you wait for it.....but all you hear is the hammering and the saws and the radio blaring. What the hell? Er, hello, did you not see me just now?? *try flicking hair* Nothing. You look down at what you are wearing and think, hey I look alright, I don't get it? *walk a little slower cause almost completley past and still no hollers or whistles* And feel just a little bit indignant about it all.

Go figure hey? Cause then the next time you walk past one and are bombarded with the comments, whistles and stares that make you wish the ground would open up and swallow you, you find yourself cursing them again, thinking how disgusting they are.

*Latest fashion I am not a fan of: tights/leggings worn as pants. Not cool. With long shirt that covers shiny bottom? - that's okay, that's cute even, quite a fan of that. With normal t-shirt that means when walking behind you all I can do is stare at your somewhat see-through leggings knowing exactly what type of undies you are wearing and somewhat transfixed by the movement of your bum cheeks as you walk? - REALLY REALLY NOT OKAY. First few times I saw this I did actually wonder whether at some point during the day, they looked down and went "oh crap, I forgot to put my skirt on!"



Had more irrelevant and uninteresting stuff I was going to ramble on with, but I really ought to do something productive before night shift tonight huh....

Pantene and homework.

Okay I rarely watch TV anymore nowadays so I miss a lot of stuff. Tonight I am watching and there is a new pantene ad. Hair ads always grate on my nerves but this one is just ridiculous. A few chicks with ultra shiny GHD'd hair wearing blindfolds that supposedly are amazed at how their hair has suddenly become so much silkier and smoother after using Pantene.

Okay so firstly...Were they wearing the blindfolds while someone washed, conditioned, blow dried and straightened their hair?? Is that even possible? And secondly the ad says "after 14 days". They were wearing blindfolds for FOURTEEN DAYS!!?? And never touched their hair once during that time?

Also ridiculous - Emma comes home with her second homework sheet for the year. We sit down the first day she gets it to get stuck into it since you know, it's the second week of school and we are all organised and not frantically scribbling out stuff the morning it's due, swearing that next week will be different and all that...

So, I currently have a cold (don't even get me started on venting about snot. SO WRONG. Vile stuff. Even my own. *gag*) plus I've come off night shift so my usually high level of intellect is somewhat compromised at the moment. Two questions on the sheet had me completely perplexed and questioning my sanity:

Q1. Ben arrives at the Valentines day dance half an hour late. What time does Ben arrive?

Q2. Ben wants to buy an ice cream and a drink of juice at the dance. How much money does he need?

There was no other information relating to those questions. I sat there for like ten minutes re-reading and re-reading and thinking "there is something wrong with me, why can't I figure this out??"

So this morning I decide I will swallow my pride for the sake of my child's education and admit to the teacher I am struggling with my daughters year 2 homework. Imagine my relief when she explained they forgot to copy in the text with the information necessary to answer the questions. Oh well of course, I mean OBVIOUSLY. I just wanted to point out the error to her was all.

Yeah.

Moroccan hair....

Just so you know, yesterday whilst Bailey was getting his hair cut I was admiring all the lovely rows of products while I waited. There is a NEW fancy product...made with extracts from some special plant in Morocco. How cool is that? Smells awesome. Sounds exotic. Makes my hair shiny.

*flick flick flick*

See?

Possibly a bit of a rip off at $40 for the tiniest of bottles but it made me briefly happy when I rubbed the "pea sized drop" through my hair and admired the results.