As I feared preparing for the wedding was a week long event. Between trying to scrub off the layers of instant and fake tan, removing my nail varnish from my toes, then filing and shaping my toe nails and finger nails, not to mention the hair treatment I put in to try and transform my hair from straw to silk, I was a little tired by the time Friday came around.
De-tanning wasn't as bad as I'd predicted - a good scrubbing glove and some rough drying for a few days soon had me looking my pasty best. Considering it's May and my phobia of wearing pants I had to do something to take from the whiteness, that even the people at Daz would be proud of. And that's when Ciara met Sally. It wasn't quite moaning in the middle of a restaurant but more sly smiling to myself in the changing room of my gym. Sally Hansen airbrush legs is a life saver. It got me through the week and ended up playing a major part on the day of the wedding.
Then came my Mist Mission. When Thursday arrived I anxiously showered and scrubbed one last time. Lined the bathroom floor with the bath mat, a towel and a dressing gown. I would consider myself at the this stage a connoisseur of fake tan but none the less read the instructions and got to work. I sprayed away, somewhat blindly because its not tinted and you don't rub it, hoping I was covering all the areas. I possibly should have held my breath because I inhaled so much of it that I'm imagining my lungs are a love shade of orange now. After a little assistance with the back, got to love boyfriends, the fake tan was done so I got to work on french manicuring my toes nails.
L'Oreal Sublime Bronze Self tan mist, made two promises not to smell and be streak free. I can confirm that although slightly chemically I did not stink going to bed or the next day so that was a plus.
When I woke on the Friday I cautiously raised my arms for inspection, even through bleary eyes and the dim light I knew something was wrong. Bracing myself for an encounter with a mirror I made my way to the bathroom. What greeted me was a sight I wouldn't wish on a Leinster player (well maybe.) It was as if all the fake tan had gravitated to my hands and feet and on top of that left me with plenty of missed patches.
I filled the sink, got my scrubbing glove, mountains of shower gel, a nail brush and even
some nail varnish remover to try and salvage my hands, About 15 mins later there was some improvement but there was no hope for my feet.
Then I remembered my good friend Sally. I got out the glove and began a repair job. I knew all those years spent as a youngster trying to colour between the lines would pay off at some stage.
Off I went to the hairdresser after that. That was far from a disaster, it was a master piece. GHD curls, back brushing, hair spray and pins and someone else doing it, how could you go wrong!
Make-up, dress and shoes all went fine. My patch up job on my tan was holding up well, until we got to the reception...........
The function room became a sauna as the courses kept coming and I got a little hot. To put it in a lady like fashion, 'I began to feel the heat.' The chairs had white seat covers and when I got up to powder my nose I discovered that some of my tan had transferred to the seat. To say I was embarrassed would be putting it mildly. I shoved the chair in under the table and hoped no one took it out while I was gone. I saved myself from further blushes my popping my napkin on the chair and sat at the edge.
My shower on Saturday resembled one you'd take as a child after rolling in the muck but it washed away what I needed it to.
....... And so the cycle begins again. De-tanning, dumping that silly mist thing, and sticking to what I know works even if I do end up being a little bit smelly.
Now off to change those sheets ........................
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