Makeover Closure

The Makeover Challenge ended... a long time ago. While I did try a lot of stuff, namely tanning and waxing my chest, overall, I'm not too happy about it. Not at all. I did however shave and do like it off a little bit, although much to Tiffany's displeasure.

Tanning is something that I did enjoy. I'm not sure how much effect it had on my skin tone, but I didn't burn in Jamaica, which was the main idea behind it. It does leave you feeling happy and warm, which is important especially from someone working overnights and sleeping during the sunny hours. It costs a lot, however, and I'm not sure it's worth it. Plus the stigma associated with it is something I generally fight against. I don't really care about my appearance. Not to mention the whole cancer-death-dying aspect of it. I can't judge people who do it though as most of the folks I saw tanning were neither orange nor leathery. In fact, I saw many more of those at the beach.

I didn't post about it because it happened the night before we left for Jamaica, but I did Nair my chest. It was pretty crazy; put the stuff on and with one swipe of a rag, I didn't have any chest hair. Or t least not on the top part that could stick out from shirts. The burn directly after the fact is more than a little concerning, and I do wonder what the hell is in that stuff that can kill your hair in no time. It can't be healthy. Now, three weeks later, I'm starting to scratch at my chest more and more as the hair is slowly regrowing, no doubt thicker and fuller than before.

Overall, I did pretty bad with my makeover and as a result, I'm worried about future Sacrifices. I don't have much problem with true sacrifices, having to give stuff up, but when I set out to do something new and incorporate it into my life... that's a whole different ballgame. We will soon find out just how successful I can be, but the makeover gets a dismal 7. In fact, I may have to capitalize that... my score is a Dismal Seven.

I'm Tanning!!

I've been tanning a number of times since my last post about it. I thought I should explain the process a bit.

First off, the place is really nice, meaning it's clean and I'm not too worried about catching any diseases. This is a good thing. I've heard stories about places that sound gross to be in fully clothed, let alone stripped down to your skivvies.

Okay, so we got a deal that was for tanning booths, not tanning beds. When you walk into the place there are four rooms with beds on the right wall and the left wall is lined with these enclosed booths that each have a door the size and shape of an airplane bathroom. You go into this dressing room, which is small for me and I'm not that big of a guy. The opposite wall has a heavy vault-type door that leads to the tanning booth itself.

My first time it took me awhile to figure it all out. I was standing there with very little on and eye protection that could blot out the sun, albeit very stylish... I couldn't figure out what to do next though. I even tried just standing in front of the lights for a minute but nothing happened. It turns out there's a button you have to press, and then the blinding light turns on.

The room itself is the same size as the dressing room, but it doesn't feel nearly as small. The lights are close but they are all behind a cage, and I am glad we aren't using the coffin-like beds. Although, once your feet are in place, you have to grab on to these hooks that are on the ceiling - wouldn't want an uneven tan. It could easily feel like some sort of awful torture chamber though, locked in some small cage, dangling from the ceiling with your toes on the ground.

For me, however, my feet are flat on the ground and my hands are barely above my head. Plus, there's a nice fan going and you can turn up the music. For lack of better word, it's really nice. And the lights and the heat. The waiting room has a big sign listing off the benefits of tanning, the focus being on that it make you feel good, and they are right. It just makes you happy. I have yet to leave that place anything but happy. Even when I know I burned.

Anyways, the burning has stopped for the most part, as has the itching. The incessant itching and scratching and reaching for places that cannot be reached... that only lasted a couple days anyways. For the most part, I'm starting to tan. There's not much of a difference, but it's a start.

Walking Towards Cancer

...or is it away from cancer?

Last weekend I went for a walk with Tiff and her aunt, Carrell... and 5000 strangers. We participated in Manassas's annual cancer walk, Light the Night, and while there was some definite hokiness to it, it was truly very cool. They gave everyone a balloon with a light in it and sent us marching as a giant horde of cancer-aware hooligans through the streets. The walk took about an hour, and it was a pretty leisurely pace, so while it does indeed count for our makeover sacrifice, I think it would take a lot more than that to make this beast into a beauty - uh, meaning me. Unfortunately, the pictures didn't come out too well:
but whenever we crested a hill, however small it may be, we could see a red path lit up before us winding through the neighborhoods. It had a surprisingly neat sensation, like I was actually a part of something.

Every walker was suppose to raise money to support the cause. People who raised a thousand dollars got a long-sleeve t-shirt! Tiff and I didn't raise any money. We joined at the last minute.

The event had a few sponsors, so as the thousands of jolly participants ended their Lite-Brite adventure they were greeted by a man dressed as a cow giving out Chik-Fil-A chicken sandwiches. Oh, how a nice tender chicken sandwich would have tasted then. I was tempted, especially after already failing, but we veered instead into a near-by Subway right before close, and I had my first veggie sub. It wasn't bad. Meat can add a nice flavor, but the veggie sub's after-effect was excellent. I felt good afterwards; I was satisfied. Nothing beats a Saturday night spent walking in circles and eating a salad on a bun.

Big shout out to Carrell for both setting us up with the cancer walk and for making a true sacrifice by giving up cigarettes.

Dead Sea Sales Pitch

Tiff and I had a strange encounter with a thickly-accented salesman the other day at the mall. He commented about his accent, so I took the bait and asked what type of accent it is. He challenged me to guess.

The accent was unfamiliar but I guessed Mediterranean simply based on the large patch of chest hair that was proudly on display from under his collar. He suddenly became enthusiastic, pushing me to a more specific guess. I knew it was wrong, but I guessed Italy, which seemed to punch a blow in his appreciation of me. But he quickly rebounded.

"No, it's a small country in the Middle East." Oh - I replied - you're from Lebanon.

I should have known by the large display of Dead Sea beauty products behind him that he was from Israel A little different than Lebanon. If my guess Italy was a punch, this was a knock-out blow, and the guy never addressed me again, with the rest of the pitch going to Tiff. I figure at least I didn't say Palestine.

His stuff looked pretty good though. My mom sent me the always fun package of lord-knows-what for my birthday last year that included a man's bath kit of Dead Sea products and I really like them all. One of his items was a nail shiner block. He shined Tiff's pinky nail to a pretty impressive gleam.

We found a similar shiner block at Wal-Mart for $1.99. Savings - $78.

Haircut All-Stars

I am notorious for waiting to get my hair cut. Notice the subtitle here. I used to not be so bad about it, but then I let it grow out one year - the year I met Tiff - and ever since then have let it grow weeks past the time that it looks bad to the point where it looks embarrassing. This time around was no different.
I usually get my hair chopped off all at once. What I mean is that I get my hair cut too short and then after a few weeks of growing, it's the length I like. That's why I'm getting my hair cut now, in hopes that in two months I will have perfect length curls and change my name to Samson.

This trip to the barber was not noteworthy by any means. Although when the barber asked me how long I wanted it, I said simply, "shorter," and then looked around and pointed out a guy waiting to get his hair cut and said, "about that long."
Tiff's hair hasn't changed all that much in the time that I've known her. She also got her haircut recently. Whereas my barber seemed to be more concerned with whatever myth was being busted on the Discovery Channel at the time, Tiff went to a fancy place. She had been talking about taking drastic measures with her hair for a few weeks. So with a picture of the one and only Nicole Ritchie in hand, my beautiful bride left the apartment like this.
I was a little nervous to say the least. When she came home, eight hours later, she had half the hair but was twice as beautiful. Look at her now!

Burning

I finally got started on tanning yesterday, and I am that much closer to dying. I am in for the long haul too. Tiff and I both got year-end packages of unlimited tanning. I could tan from 9am to 9pm every day of the week.

It is a bizarre process though, with the first day being dominated by embarrassment and feeling like a fool. I'm sure there will be multiple stories involved but after one day, five minutes I should say, my skin hurts.



I can however see why people do it. It does feel pretty good while you're in there, and I'm curious to see if regular visits change my mood at all, particularly as I work nights and will soon be sleeping during the entire daylight hours. Not to mention, I'm curious if I can become a nice solid orange color before Christmas.

Exercise My Patience

The makeover is increasingly difficult and hurdles are springing out of the woodwork. Tiff and I finally got motivated a couple of days ago, on Monday, and went walking through the quiet little neighborhood near our apartment complex just as night was falling.

Tiff, with all of her natural navigational know-how, led the way, charging farther and farther away from home. I didn't so much mind the distance, or the power-walk pace, but I knew that she was guiding us towards a very busy road so I suggested turning... often. But Tiff would not be swayed. We had a made a sacrifice and we must sacrifice fully. I put my foot down when she turned left towards a highway and a road with no sidewalks.

About this time we also realized we did not have much of a chance of making it home before 9pm. We may have treated it like the witching hour, but 9pm is just the time that Heroes comes on. There are only a few shows that I watch regularly and that is one of them. Come to think of it, it's the only prime time show that is a must-watch for me week after week.

I was determined to get home in time. Our power walk took speeds that even heroes would be proud of. I think Tiff was more determined not to piss me off, so together we raced down the neighborhood streets. I ran through the door, huffing and puffing, sweat dripping down, and turned on the tv just as the "previously on..." scenes were rolling.

Fast-forward a day. Tiff likes our route and more importantly our speed, so we set out again. This time we prepare ourselves for the trip. We dress more appropriately. I take off my glasses, which I do from time to time for no real reason, and leave them behind. Just as we are leaving Tiff grabs the cell-phone to keep an eye on the time. Our goal is the same route in under an hour, which is about what we did the first day.

And we are off. We are trucking. We are really zooming. It's a nice walk. We talk about stuff like how the homes cost too much. $430,000 to live in the shadows of your neighbor. And at the end, we climb up our stairs ten minutes faster than the previous time. We are happy. Tiff has a show to watch. I'm going to post a few blogs because I'm getting behind, all is well, and then I try to turn the doorknob. We are locked out.

The only thing we have on us is a cell phone. No money. No car keys. But thank god for the cell phone. With a little help, thanks Martha, we call a locksmith and about two hours and $195! later, we get into our home, stinking to high heaven, with just enough time for me to shower and head off to work.

When I planned the exercise part of this, I had visions of excruciating pain and lots of sweat and clanking weights and water bottles with pre-bended straws, but it hasn't started out that way. I like the walking and it definitely is a work-out, but a part of me thinks there should be more grunting and maybe sweatbands and leg-warmers. Tiff's got the right idea. We'll see what I do though.

Makeover: Take Two

I didn't do a good job explaining the makeover challenge. The beautiful beaches of Jamaica are exclusive to beautiful people, and while I'm taking my beautiful bride, I need some work before being allowed in or even near such beauty. I am sacrificing my carefree attitude towards my appearance, fitness, and health.

So here are the basic rules. First, I should have started working out earlier in order to be in shape for the trip, maybe two or three years earlier, but I'm hoping that if I exercise for at least 45 minutes four times a week I will at least feel like I'm in better shape. Ideally, I'd like to lose my beer belly and drop about 15 pounds, but realistically, that is not going to happen in two months. So I'm going to admit from the start that "attitude is everything" for this piece of the sacrifice.

Secondly, I will tan regularly. Now, I have never gone tanning - I've never even sunbathed... in fact, I don't think I have ever been tan - but we are going to the Caribbean beaches and even spf 342 is not going to stop the sun from getting to me down there and the last thing I want is to be bed-stricken with sun poisoning on my wedding day/honeymoon.

And other than that, I want to do whatever I can look nice. While attitude is everything, I want my appearance to match my attitude. We'll see were that takes me.

I'll admit I'm having some trouble getting started on this one. Unlike the vegetarianism, this is more about the motivation to get up and go do something rather than simply denying myself something. Hopefully, that will soon change.

Makeover - 2 Months

I am getting married! In two short months, I am getting married on the beautiful beaches of Jamaica's north shore, and I want to look my best.