October 29, 2016

That's What I Get

... for trying to make people like me. Lesson learned; don't try to make people like you.

Here's my Facebook post that morning.

I just wanted to show a little school spirit, fit in, for Pink Out. Yeah, after nearly blinding myself with pink false eyelashes and attempting to spray pink stripes into my hair, I now know the meaning of physical comedy. Also, failure.

I was new to the school, I knew no one, I spent most of my time in the library alone, like a hermit and only partially because I like to be alone. Only I decided maybe I wanted to try something new - another lesson learned; don't try something new. 

My moment of opportunity arrives in the form of Pink Out, a breast cancer awareness event where the staff and students wear as much pink as possible. I looked at photos from years past and I'm telling you, it looks like a Pepto Bismol sponsored Halloween. Halloween I can do. So I buy some hot pink "easy application" false eyelashes and a can of pink hair spray paint. 

The morning of Pink Out comes and I sit down to do my hair. How hard can it be? It's spray paint and I've been doing my own hair for a good bit now, I've got this. Ten minutes later my right hand is dripping pink which is confusing being that my right hand is holding the can and therefore zero paint should be there. My ears, neck and both sides of my face are pink. My hair though? Not pink. And now the can is empty. Perfect.

Fine, it's time to put on the "easy application" eyelashes. 

Easy my candy mother truckin' ass! There was a moment I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to see again. Some adhesive had gotten in one eye and I wasn't entirely sure the whole damn thing wasn't lodged in there judging from the inconceivable pain I was experiencing. The adhesive had proven its capability by cementing my other eye shut completely and seemingly irreversibly in a most frightening way.. 

So there I am, flailing around on the floor trying in vain to get up to run to the bathroom but my body won't do that because all of the energy and intelligence is being concentrated on the fight part of that pesky involuntary Fight or Flight response. I'm telling you, I simply cannot remove my hands from my eyes to use them to get up from the floor. My legs are at least trying to run but only succeed in propelling my body in useless circles on the carpet. My hair dryer, brushes, and make-up are being sent airborne into walls and mirrors. Out of my mouth comes a sound not unlike a hysterical Capuchin monkey yet not one of the other three people in this house hears this and comes to my rescue. People, whom I might add, are all supposed to be awake and alert and preparing for their day so I ask you, what the fuck?

Most of the rest is a blur but I managed to get one eye open, one elbow/forearm down on the floor to launch myself and run, pinballing myself between the walls along the way, to the bathroom. Much soap and water was used and in the end I went to school pink, just not the way I intended; My skin and eyes pink from all the scrubbing.

And no, nobody noticed.  I'm still not over it really.  

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