Makeup

Friday Funny: When You Look Good, You Feel Good (No Matter How Many Margaritas You Had the Night Before)

I received the following email from my sister this morning and giggled the whole way through. A wonderful way to begin my Friday, I couldn’t help but share it with you guys.

Keep reading for a feel-good laugh, and remember… it’s never just ONE margarita!

So… Last night Hubby went to get a drink with a new guy friend from work. They decided on our favorite local Mexican spot. Right after I got home, they called me and told me to come join them for “A drink”, “A” as in ONE, since it’s a work night and all. Needless to say, I go meet them.

margaritaI’d never met this new friend before, but spotted him as soon as I walked in. His big genuine smile lit up his perfectly adorable face as he waved me over to their booth. (Side note: New friend doesn’t have many friends in our uber-conservative small town for reasons that simply make no sense to me, but you can probably put two and two together…) Anyway, Hubby had beer. New friend had a margarita, on the rocks, salt on the rim. Mmmm. That sounded good at that moment.

I sat down and ordered a margarita just like new friend’s. Just one. Right? We immediately hit it off and the conversation was great and full of laughter. New friend is precious and absolutely, positively, fantastic. I had FOUR margaritas. FOUR. Not just one. Oops. Then, new friend invites us over to see his apartment to share a bottle of wine. Hubby and I stop and get another bottle of wine and some beer, because, well, why not? We go to new friend’s place, which is FABULOUS (no kids, no dogs, everything is decorated beautifully and smells so nice), and drink and hang out for hours. Two bottles of wine emptied, all of Hubby’s beers gone and close to midnight, we finally make our way home.

Now, for today’s story: The alarm goes off WAY too early and my head is pounding. POUNDING. Hubby feels horrible, but throws on some clothes and heads to work. The joy of being a man. Life is easier. Then MY adventure begins. I struggle to climb out of bed, the world spinning. I make my way to the kitchen with my eyes closed. I drink a bottle of water and take 1000 mg of ibuprofen. Then, I have a healthy, filling breakfast of 4 saltine crackers and a can of ginger ale. Next, I pour coffee and just stare at it. My tummy is not happy. Not sure I should add coffee. I decide not to, knowing I will later regret not having had my caffeine.

funny_beauty_quote2The clock is ticking and I’m just sitting. Suddenly, I realize I have not showered after the spray tan that I got on my lunch hour yesterday. Ewww. (At least I’m nice and dark…) So, I start down the hall and trip over the dog and bite my lip. Like CHOMP on my lip. OUCH. SHIT. My tooth goes into my bottom lip. Hurts, but oh well. I’ll just look on the bright side: Now my bottom lip is more plump than normal.

I hop in the shower and make myself even later. I grab the first comfy, casual dress in my closet and throw it on and then remember that my office is taking me out to a nice birthday lunch today. That dress winds up in the floor and I have to start over. My brain is not cooperating. Outfit coordination is usually my thing. I decide to worry about the clothes later and go put my face on. I have a strict morning routine (thanks to my sister, The Blondeshell), but I am pretty sure I forgot about half of the steps. So, I’m sure my face will be extra creased and saggy by lunch time. I slap on as much of my war paint as I can stand and push my hair around. My hair is the only great thing going for me right now. I tousle it around and it’s good. Now, for the clothes…

I head back to the closet. Got to look good today for my luncheon. I decide on a white drop-waisted dress I got recently from Victoria’s Secret, with a blue infinity scarf and blue shoes. And pearls. Pearls always make me happy. I struggle into my Victoria’s Secret thong waist cincher, (a.k.a. the torture device). Then, I put on a bra that’s a cup size too small, but it’s the only one I have that’s the right color to go under a white dress. Of course. This torture is followed by squeezing into my nude body shaping tank for extra smoothing of the lumps. (Where the hell did all the lumps and bumps come from????) Still not done! Finally, I add the control top pantyhose.

Yes, I am wrapped so tight that I can barely breathe, but I decide I look good(ish)! Dress on, scarf on, shoes on and I am ONLY running 10 minutes late. While gathering up my things for work, I see the cup of coffee I’d made earlier. It’s cold now, but I decide that I should just chug it since I’m realizing just how much I need it at this point. I turn it up and spill coffee down the front of my WHITE dress. (What kind of an idiot buys a white dress anyway???) So there I am. Coffee is spilled all over my right boob. Nice. Just perfect. I scrub it with a cloth. There’s absolutely no time to decide on a new outfit. Solution: I simply strategically position my scarf over that boob. Ingenuity at its finest! I just hope it stays put.

funny_beauty_quoteSo with that genius move, I’m FINALLY out the door and I’m only running like 20 minutes late. I am nauseous as hell for my entire commute. Might be the tequila and wine in my tummy, or the Mexican food, might be the torture devices that I call undergarments, might be a combination of all of the above…? Trying to take my mind off the pain, I look in the mirror, add more lipstick (that always makes things better) and I crank the radio, determined to have a good commute! Buuuuut the music makes my temples almost explode. So, NOPE. That has to go. I drive my hour commute (yes, one way) in the near silence, being bound to death and barely able to breathe, nauseous, temples thumping, and basically miserable.

I make it to work 20 minutes late. I give an excuse about traffic being heavy. And the first three people I come in contact with tell me how great I look today. Nice. All of the other fades away. When you look good, you feel good. I might even make it through the day in these God forsaken undergarments. Maybe. Damn. I’m not sure how I’ll eat today. I can’t even breathe. Oh well… Just tell me I’m pretty and everything is alright. Got to love being a woman. <3

Ain’t that the damn truth! Did this Friday Funny give you a giggle? Do you have any similar stories? Share them with me in the comments section!