A few weeks ago, at Sunday dinner, my dad asked why my legs looked so tan. This spurred an entire conversation about how high maintenance I am. I am a firm believer that you cannot serve from an empty cup. Therefore, I am not ashamed to admit that I LOVE doing things for myself--pedicures, working out, hair, nails, lashes, massages, you get it--but over the years I have decided that there are some things I refuse to pay for, and some things I refuse to do myself.
When I was in college, and ward hopping because of all the farewells and homecomings I attended, a good friend of mine grabbed my wrist in the middle of sacrament meeting and inspected my nails. He then tossed my hand over his shoulder and wiggled as a signal for me to begin ticking his back. After sacrament meeting was over he said, ¨Amber... if you love me at all, you will never get rid of your nails." Now, as much as I adored Jason, that was hardly a reason for me to keep nails on. Funny side note about me... I do not like my hands. Like, at all. I think they look like little kid hands, so I like having my nails done because I feel like it makes my hands look more... what is the word? Adult? Womanly? Grown up? I don´t know... but you get it, right? Lucky for me, my mom does nails, so I grew up watching her do them in our house. Barb was always my favorite client of hers. Gary, Barb´s husband, and I would pick out her nail color together. Prince George´s Passion was our favorite, but mostly because of the name. Anyway... that means that nails are DIY for me. I learned how to do them from my mom, so this is a luxury I save money on because I do it myself. Do not ask me to do yours, cause I'm not gonna. All my nail tech friends are falling off their chairs right now.
Tanning. Oh the joys of falling asleep in a tanning bed. Until it shuts off and gives you a mini heart attack. Nothing cures the winter blues quite like melanoma, right? I was an avid tanning bed enthusiast for years, and then I was introduced to the spray tan. I am all about instant gratification, so the immediacy of a spray tan spoke to my soul. I wasn't a psycho though... I only got them before major events. Family pictures, birthing a child, Friday... One time I went and got a spray tan before Dewy and I spoke in church. Now, I have no shame, which means there are a handful of people privileged enough to witness Amber Hodges in all her glory...and somehow I was always the one paying them. So there I sat, on the stand at church, when in walks the girl who two days prior gave me a spray tan. She was there for a baby blessing, and I--after almost having an aneurysm--leaned over to Dewy and pointed her out and explained how I knew her. Of course she sat smack in front of the podium. "So...like...she's seen you naked? That's sure comfy." He said with a smirk. That is when I decided it was time to invest in my own equipment. So I bought a spray tan machine, tent, solution, all of it. Spraying yourself is a breeze and the beauty of it is I can be tan whenever I want, without the threat of frying my skin off. Plus, it means my dad can make fun of me, and I can make him uncomfortable when he asks if I spray other people and what they wear when they come. You. Are. Welcome.
One time Dewy was complaining to my friends that it takes me forever to get ready--which is false. I can get three kids and myself ready in about the same time it takes him to get ready. It takes forever to wash, dry, and style my hair, but I do that like once every ten days. And only after a major pep talk. Or when things start growing in it. Anyway, as he was complaining, my dear friend--famous for her backhanded compliments--said, "Dewy! It takes a lot of time and energy to look that good!" Um, rude. I'm clearly a natural beauty. Cue a hair extension flip and batting of the fake lashes. This is also the friend who when talking about how you can gauge a person's personality based on their clothing said, "Except you Amber. You dress classy." But that is another story for another day.