Let it be known

Sometimes it just cracks me way the heck up that beauty school is a written and published chapter in my history book.

It’s just so not me.

I mean. I don’t have a single beauty product in my entire make-up bag that wouldn’t be stuffed in the same plastic shopping bag as the strawberries, cold cereal and toothpaste that I purchased in the same transaction. (Well, except Clinique pressed powder. But that’s just because it’s my easy button. I’ve worn it for forever, and I’ve got my color all memorized up and stuff. Plus, one of those babies can lasts me up to 2 years. So really it’s like Clinique is paying me to wear their powder.) Truth be told, it wouldn’t matter if I bought the expensive stuff, I wouldn’t the first clue how to apply it properly.

And do you know how many times I’ve grabbed a fashion magazine to googly eye over celebrity outfits and get inspiration on how to dress? Let me do some quick computing … Probably never! (Trashy celebrity gossip? Well that’s a whole different story.)

And the number of Pinterest boards that I have titled “Oh So Fashionable” or “Outfits for the Friday Nights”: Zero

Mail order make-up subscriptions: None

Number of videos I’ve watched regarding how to do the smoky eye: Zilch (Is the smoky eye even still popular?)

Number of mani or pedi’s I’ve had (not including the ones done by fellow amateur beauty school pupils): Zippo

But, I can do a mad prom inspired up do. So there’s that. Or at least there used to be that. I’m not so sure anymore … it’s been years since a prom inspired hairdo created by Kim has been called upon.

And I do wax my own eye brows.

And I cut the hair of the people who live with me. But really, who doesn’t?

I got asked a few years ago to teach the Young Women in our church some new, cute and hip hairstyles. Bahahahaha. Say what! I have a grand total of no clue on what the new, cute, and hip hairstyles are! I do blow dry my own hair though, but that’s not really anything I would label “hip” or “new”! Of course I wasn’t qualified to teach such an audience on such a topic.

I said yes. Naturally. Because I’m prone to that sort of thing - saying yes without fully processing what it is I’m agreeing too.

As an attempt to eat up some of the time that I would be up in front of a group of fun, cute and hip teenagers (while their fashion savvy eyes glazed over and I taught them how to do the finger wave or some equally dated and unhip hairstyle) I asked another lady to join in on the party. She’s uber beauty school material – fashionable, put-together, in the know. I'm certain she has a multitude of Pinterest boards assigned to fashion. Honestly, she’s probably the actual lady pinned to all the fashionable Pinterest boards. Anyway, I asked if she would talk a bit with the girls along the lines of new, cute and hip fashion ideas.

She totally came through for me. She rocked it! She rocked it so hard that there wasn’t a single ounce of even half a second for me to talk about hair. (I’ve never felt more certain that God does hear and answer my prayers.)

During the course of her fashion inspired lecture she told a really sad, heart wrenching, sob story. It was a true story about how when she was a younger fashion apprentice she would study fashion magazines, create red carpet worthy outfits and stay up at night dreaming of which color of hoop earrings she would pair with her Jordache jeans (or something like that). And then (are you ready for this) her mom would expect her to shop for clothing at the same establishment that they bought other consumer goods like milk and produce. Gasp! The nerve!

I let out a loud woot, woot. And I was only kinda kidding.

Because on one hand that’s a mama I can stand behind. I’m a fan of all the multi-tasking. Milk, eggs, clothing and make-up in one shopping trip. Holla!

But on the other hand, I’m certainly not going to let the stresses of fashion and finding the right size ruin an otherwise enjoyable grocery shopping trip.

(Plus, I don’t typically frequent that one store that you can buy potato chips and underwear with one swipe of the card.)

(Wait, unless were talking about Costco, and if that’s the case duh!)

Anyway, where was I? I think I was just in the process of admitting that thirteen years after graduation I have amounted to a total beauty school joke! A failure, I suppose. It’s certainly not pretty, but it doesn’t embarrass me in the least.

And now that I say it, I wonder if that’s the part I should be embarrassed about?