Paying for eyelash torture

After buying 11 mascaras and planning to do a mascexperiment, I paused and did some further research (no, I didn't keep the receipt).  After consulting the fashionable ones in my circle of friends, relatives and acquaintances, I decided to try eyelash extensions.  A particular salon was recommended to me, but rather than wait til they had an appointment time available, I took matters into my own hands/lashes and found a spa near to home.  It had a good spa-sounding name...even used the word 'tranquility' in the title, that should have been a clue.

My appointment was at 5, my usual 40min drive to Delta was anything but tranquil and took 90min today.  An earlier accident on the bridge was causing huge traffic delays and I barely made it to the spa on time, but I did.  My pet, I mean my friend Harpreet met me there, her job was as self-appointed quality control consultant.

I sat in the waiting area while the savage, I mean while the 'technician' was busy on the telephone.  And busy she was, talking to her travel agent about an upcoming trip and how many days she'd like to spend in Hong Kong while enroute to India.  Oh they laughed, they talked, they discussed possible dates and the merits of more time in Hong Kong.  My tranquility wavered.  I sat less than three feet away from her but basically I myself could have been in Hong Kong.  She didn't look up once.  Finally at 5:20, she finished her call and we went in.  My pet was given a chair and settled in to observe.

We asked lots of questions and got lots of vague answers.  Then the lashinatrix started her torture.  First she tried to apply tape to my eyeballs and when I flinched she said, 'are you even going to be able to HANDLE this at ALL?', I ceased my flinching and wondered how difficult it would be to learn braille.  She adjusted the tape slightly and then started on the torture.  In between the torture she berated me for flinching, 'STOP FLINCHING and STOP TWITCHING', 'If you KEEP TWITCHING it makes it all the more difficult for ME'...she went on to tell us that she had a sore neck and didn't like to do more than two eyelash sessions per day, I was her second and she didn't seem too pleased.  She couldn't tell me how many lashes she'd be putting in, how long they'd last, other than to mention that NO ONE got 'fills', everyone just marched back in and got a new full set.

The tugging and the twitching and the cramping and the flinching continued until I was ready to beg for mercy.  I actually lay there fantasizing about an armed robbery, they'd storm in and she'd run for the cash drawer and I'd loop my coach bag around my pet's neck and she'd lead me to safety in a heartbeat.  At one point the door did chime and I perked up only to be sternly told to 'STOP MOVING'. 

Alas, finally we were done, she ripped the tape off, pryed my eyes open and thrust a magnifying mirror in front of me.  Not exactly the look I was imagining...I was picturing lush full lashes and instead I have delicate thin, albeit long, lashes, reminiscient of an aneroxic spider.  And not just lashes, I also left with little blobs of glue on my eyelids, my forehead, my eyebrows.  Surprised I wasn't charged extra for the dalmation spots. 

Our first entry....

Me and Tigs! We're here on our first official blog.

Difficult to decide what we're going to write or when we're going to write or what category we're going to fall under.  I suppose it's not 'we' it's 'me' until 'and Tigs' learns how to type.  I think occasionally I may type on his behalf, after all, it wouldn't be the first time and he does need to express himself.

Tonight I'm channeling my inner independent woman and going to the Michael Buble concert on my own.  This will be a first, I think.  Thanks to Moniera for giving me the single ticket...maybe she wants to see how I'll fair without an entourage, a manatee (I suspect this blog may need a glossary, note to self), a maltass or a man.

Speaking of the Maltass, that's him, Tigs.  Small large-earred dog of mixed breed being held in the photo, official name Tigger Bob Ritchie Peel Parker Bath Sudsington.  Mostly we just call him Tigs, Tigsy or Tigger.  My four-legged companion for almost three years now.  Presently sitting at my feet, awaiting his early evening walk.

Single for the weekend, I like to live the stereotype and had nachos for dinner, light sour cream makes it okay, right?  Any day now I'll get back on that diet, really, any day now.

Update - midnight.  Home from the concert.  Super fantastico.  Lessons learned, don't bother arriving early and if you do, best to have your phone full charged.  Was pleased to see that I was wearing the appropriate Buble concertgoer attire, ruffly type tank top, faded jeans...lost a few points with the old lady cardigan and the sensible sandals. 

Tommorrow my support of male Canadian musicians continues with a trip down memory lane, Bryan Adams at the PNE, this time I'm taking my pet manatee with me :)