NOW That’s What I Call a show!

Note: For the next few posts, I’m going back in time to share with you some of the ways in which I think I’m terribly clever . Because Sometimes I Forget I’m Awesome.

I have horrible vision. I mean, like I can’t see past my hand bad. I scare myself in the mirror at night because I think someone’s in my room… then I realize that’s just me. I’ve mistaken my dad (balding & plump) for my brother (Fabio hair & muscles). I’ve run into walls. It’s not cute. Just thought you should know.

At the eye doctor’s office, I sat down to take out my contact lenses with one of the young girls who worked there sitting across from me. I had been to this particular office before but I’d never met her.

We chatted for a bit though I can’t remember any of what was said. Then:

Eye-Girl*: Are you busy this Friday night?

Me: Uuuummmmm….

Eye-Girl: I mean, nothing weird, I was just curious.

Me: Ummmmm…

E-G: It’s just that I have this thing on Friday that I think you’d be perfect for. You’re so pretty and you seem like so much fun…

Me: Thanks. But this does sound a little crazy.

E-G: It’s sort of like a party. Wanna go with me?

{*Eye-Girl does have a name as well as credentials, training, and an appropriate title to do all sorts of work in said doctor’s office. The Eye-Girl moniker is not meant to devalue any of that.}

Now, you have to know, at that point in my life I was on a bit of a, “Meh, why the hell not” kick, so I said yes. We exchanged numbers and Friday night I pick her up and drive to our mystery destination. 

E-G had at some point explained to me that she was selling Mary-Kay products and we were going to some sort of launch party promo thing(?) I dunno. You Mary-Kay folks probably  know what I’m talking about.

There was putting on of make-up and talking about how it made us feel and hand scrubbing and girly things. Then, the “show.”

Oh the show.

Seems all the consultants (is that what they’re called?) bring someone to try out new products then we all parade around like mad women as a way to celebrate ourselves. Go womanhood! Or something. I was just happy to be out of the house.

The room had folding chairs set up in neat little pew-like rows, with a center aisle decked out in a red carpet. These women take this very seriously! One by one, we  guests/victims  lined up ready to shake our stuff down the aisle, music blasting from some old radio. No doubt it was a copy of “NOW That’s What I Call Music.” Did you know there's like 40 volumes of those CDs??

About three or four girls strutted down the aisle before me, some walking hastily with their eyes on the ground. And right when I step up to the edge of the red carpet, ready to make my nervous entrance, all eyes on me…

“Oh my god, Becky, look at her butt. It is SO big! She looks like one of those rap guy’s girlfriends…”

Wait, what? Immediately, I lost all sense of decorum, rolled my neck, and prepared to dance this thing to the ground. I’m pretty sure my butt grew four inches too.

That is NOT me :)

 I’ve danced in a room full of strangers before, but never like this! There was some serious butt popping and backwards walking and almost Vogue-ish arm things that shouldn’t see the light of day. And there was whooping and hollering by the crowd and clapping and a little sweating.

And wouldn’t you know it, by applause of these very demure-looking women, I won myself a basket full of cellulite creams. All for dancing to Sir Mix-a-Lot. That's right, cellulite creams!! It's like they knew I'd win!

A proud moment indeed.

It’s true, sometimes I’m more awesome than I give myself credit for.