Read Online Might as Well Laugh About It Now by Marie Osmond, Marcia Wilkie - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Marie Osmond, Marcia Wilkie
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have one now, from the preschool teachers to soccer coaches, I’m not crazy about the thought of any of my children having permanent dye injected into their skin with needles, no matter how old they are. They’re my babies! I pampered that skin they’re in.
I tried the most logical reason, sounding very much like my father: “Tattoos are permanent! What if you change your mind?”
They insisted that they never would.
“Tats will always be cool. I would never regret having one,” they tried to tell me.
Did I have an answer for that: “When I was your age, everyone thought that wearing leg warmers with jeans and Let’s Get Physical headbands would always, always be cool. Good thing they weren’t permanently attached. Right?”
At this point, my daughter offered up one word that blew away my reasoning, unquestionably: eyeliner.
How could I defend my position about tattoos when I had not only one, but two? They have now faded away to nothing, but at one time you couldn’t miss them. I had one on each eyelid. They were Cleopatra black. Tattooed eyeliner.
It seemed like the perfect solution at the time to an upcoming makeup dilemma. I was going to be one of the parents on a three-day rafting trip with my daughter’s youth group. We would be sleeping in a tent overnight and could only take a small knapsack, one that wouldn’t weigh down the raft. There would be no spare room for a makeup bag, and even if I could wear makeup, I knew I’d probably end up being dunked under water at some point.
I was telling this to a friend of mine who has a beautician’s license.
“Look at my eyes,” she said with some excitement. “It’s tattooed eyeliner! I did it myself.”
It looked really good on her.
“I never have to worry about being caught without makeup,” she told me, “even on our houseboat on Lake Powell.”
“I need that!” I told her. “It’s the perfect solution to this rafting caper. I won’t have to resort to using a permanent black Sharpie for my eyeliner.”
That afternoon, after doing my radio show, I went to her house, where she was all set up and ready to go. She numbed my eyelids with some gel and got out a tiny microscopic syringe filled with dark ink. I think getting a tattoo on your arm or ankle must be a lot easier. I don’t know about other people, but if you saw a needle coming toward your eyeball, you’d flinch! Right? And then flinch again! Not to mention the twitching. I mean, it’s a NEEDLE, by my eyeball!!! It’s a good thing my friend has such calm hands and meticulous aim. I could have ended up looking like Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) in the pirate movies. Arrrrrrrrgh!
I loved the results, until the next morning, when I could no longer see the results. I couldn’t see anything. My eyelids had swollen shut. Every eyelash follicle felt like a porcupine quill.
My beautician friend had warned me. She told me to go directly home, and lie flat for at least two hours while applying ice packs. But I had a slight problem with her advice. When you’re wearing ice packs on your eyes you can’t see what your kids are up to!
I had to get my four younger kids through dinnertime, shower time, story time, and finally bedtime. It was about five hours later by the time I got to lie down. I remembered the ice packs about two seconds before I drifted off into a deep sleep. I may have dreamed about ice packs, but that didn’t help.
After the kids left for school in the morning, I decided to give my own “pupils” the cold treatment. I lay down with an ice bag on each eye. I had exactly twenty-four hours to look normal before grabbing a paddle and living the Hiawatha life for three days on a river.
About thirty minutes later my cell phone rang with a 9-1-1 call from another close girlfriend.
I picked up the phone to a long wail that I recognized from my own past.
“I can’t take this,” my girlfriend said. “My hormones are so out of control that I spent the night walking the
I tried the most logical reason, sounding very much like my father: “Tattoos are permanent! What if you change your mind?”
They insisted that they never would.
“Tats will always be cool. I would never regret having one,” they tried to tell me.
Did I have an answer for that: “When I was your age, everyone thought that wearing leg warmers with jeans and Let’s Get Physical headbands would always, always be cool. Good thing they weren’t permanently attached. Right?”
At this point, my daughter offered up one word that blew away my reasoning, unquestionably: eyeliner.
How could I defend my position about tattoos when I had not only one, but two? They have now faded away to nothing, but at one time you couldn’t miss them. I had one on each eyelid. They were Cleopatra black. Tattooed eyeliner.
It seemed like the perfect solution at the time to an upcoming makeup dilemma. I was going to be one of the parents on a three-day rafting trip with my daughter’s youth group. We would be sleeping in a tent overnight and could only take a small knapsack, one that wouldn’t weigh down the raft. There would be no spare room for a makeup bag, and even if I could wear makeup, I knew I’d probably end up being dunked under water at some point.
I was telling this to a friend of mine who has a beautician’s license.
“Look at my eyes,” she said with some excitement. “It’s tattooed eyeliner! I did it myself.”
It looked really good on her.
“I never have to worry about being caught without makeup,” she told me, “even on our houseboat on Lake Powell.”
“I need that!” I told her. “It’s the perfect solution to this rafting caper. I won’t have to resort to using a permanent black Sharpie for my eyeliner.”
That afternoon, after doing my radio show, I went to her house, where she was all set up and ready to go. She numbed my eyelids with some gel and got out a tiny microscopic syringe filled with dark ink. I think getting a tattoo on your arm or ankle must be a lot easier. I don’t know about other people, but if you saw a needle coming toward your eyeball, you’d flinch! Right? And then flinch again! Not to mention the twitching. I mean, it’s a NEEDLE, by my eyeball!!! It’s a good thing my friend has such calm hands and meticulous aim. I could have ended up looking like Jack Sparrow (Johnny Depp) in the pirate movies. Arrrrrrrrgh!
I loved the results, until the next morning, when I could no longer see the results. I couldn’t see anything. My eyelids had swollen shut. Every eyelash follicle felt like a porcupine quill.
My beautician friend had warned me. She told me to go directly home, and lie flat for at least two hours while applying ice packs. But I had a slight problem with her advice. When you’re wearing ice packs on your eyes you can’t see what your kids are up to!
I had to get my four younger kids through dinnertime, shower time, story time, and finally bedtime. It was about five hours later by the time I got to lie down. I remembered the ice packs about two seconds before I drifted off into a deep sleep. I may have dreamed about ice packs, but that didn’t help.
After the kids left for school in the morning, I decided to give my own “pupils” the cold treatment. I lay down with an ice bag on each eye. I had exactly twenty-four hours to look normal before grabbing a paddle and living the Hiawatha life for three days on a river.
About thirty minutes later my cell phone rang with a 9-1-1 call from another close girlfriend.
I picked up the phone to a long wail that I recognized from my own past.
“I can’t take this,” my girlfriend said. “My hormones are so out of control that I spent the night walking the
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