Yesterday I applied to beauty school. I filled out an online questionnaire (or so I thought) and submitted it by text. No big, I thought. I just want to know how to do a serious blowout and then maybe later get serious about my next phase as aesthetician.
Today I got a phone call telling me that I was "accepted." "What?" I asked. "I am just interested in what you have to offer." She said, (in the vocal fry - which automatically makes me discredit any amount of intellect one may possess) "well, you've been accepted. When do you want to come in and take a tour?"
"First I need to ask you about schedules. I would need to take about one class at a time. I am on a very tight schedule as it is."
"Well, our part-time program goes from 4-9 pm Monday through Friday."
"That's part time?"
"Yes."
"What if I wanted to take fewer courses than that?"
"You totally couldn't handle it. It's, like, an amazing amount of information and there is no way that someone could remember all of it."
"No way?"
"Totally."
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I received a package in the mail today with clothes I ordered from Forever 21.
Forever 21? Who in the hell wants to be 21 Forever anyway, with no money, unable to handle her liquor, wearing cheap, skanky looking clothes that will be out of style by a week from now? I digress.
I ordered a skirt that looked kind of conservative/funky online. When I received it today, I realized that it is more thinly-veiled-slutty than anything else. Peep:
Seriously? Who wears something like that? And that was the beginning and the end of my shopping at anywhere other than my good old standbys. (Read: Costco.)
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I went to the runners store today to find out why my knees hurt when I am running, when they never used to before. I told him all about my new shoes, where my knees hurt and where and when I run. Basically the only thing that has changed is my shoes - and my age.
"Sometimes people can't run forever," he said.
Right.
I get it.
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