Our assistant at work, Summer, is an all around nice girl that works hard and makes me laugh very much. She is 22, and I am 47, and I'm pretty sure she didn't think she would ever be friends with someone the same age as her mother.
Summer was going to a wedding last Saturday after work, and she brought all her stuff with her in the morning to get ready at the salon. Because she wasn't planning on wearing pantyhose, she put some self-tanner on her legs for a few days beforehand.
For those of you who are either hazy on the ins and outs of self-tanner, indeed, self-tanner at all, it is the fake tanning lotion you put on your pasty, fish-belly white skin to make it look as though you have been lolling in the sunshine.for days on end. Applying it is a bit tricky, since you can't always reach where you want to put it on, and it takes a few hours to "develop", so the thoroughness of your job isn't immediately apparent. Also, you can't let yourself touch anything until it dries. And it's kind of smelly. Why do we use that stuff again?
When Summer put her dress on and went to leave, she looked down to find that the tanner had taken on her knees better than the rest of her legs, which meant that her gams looked bitchin', but her knees looked grubby and foul. After a lot of swearing and exclaiming, she took a washcloth to the offending knees and gave them a good scrub.
But then when she went to leave, she looked down, and she'd scrubbed too hard! Her knees were now, and I quote, "two shiny, white glowing knobs in the middle of my legs!". I know it was Halloween and all, but that's not really the sort of look you want to sport at a wedding.
A quick application of bronzer (the powder stuff you put on your face to make it look like you've been lolling in the sun) and things were better.
She said she made sure she held her purse in front of her, and crossed her legs a lot until they got into the dim light of the reception hall.
Well played, Assistant, well played.