This weekend was Mom Prom, this is an event that I have been looking forward to for years. I have enjoyed the whole prom process through the years with my girls. From picking out the perfect dress, shoes, accessories, sticky boobs, eyelashes, tanning, updo’s….everything! Many people have said that prom was overrated, but for someone who never had the chance to go to prom, I have always felt gypped. I helped my friends get ready for prom when I was 17, but I couldn’t find that perfect maternity prom dress….or date that was willing to take a pregnant girl, so I opted out. This was finally my chance, and I was super excited.

Clearly, I am aware that this time around would not be the same as an actual high school prom but this was the closest I was going to get. I had plans to lose at least 40 lbs. this year so I wasn’t limited to a black dress to try and help hide all my flaws, mainly my apple shaped body. I knew I had to get serious on Jan 1^st.   By Jan 3^rd, I was like…cake, oh how I love cake.

I was able to lose about 10 lbs but that wasn’t enough to be back in a size 2….whatever, I’m not going to be the first fat mom at mom prom and I’m sure I won’t be the last.

I went to NY in March for Lauren to run a 5K and decided that was a great time to shop for my dress. Instead of a size 2 hot pink dress that I had envisioned, I decided to put a number 1 in front of the 2 and go for a size 12 black dress with the hopes I would look smaller. I have a really nice formal  gown that I wore to the Governors inaugural ball in January but I didn’t want to be the mom who looked like she thought this was a real prom….even though I secretly did. I had to play it cool!

I normally tan for a few weeks when I have a special event coming up, everyone knows that fat looks so much better when it has some color. Because I have spent way too much time baking this pasty Irish skin, I usually cover my face with a towel when I tan and use extra bronzer. I stopped at the tanning place last Monday to see about buying a tanning package. The girl at the counter tried to sell me every product known to man and told me the cost of 5 tans would be $90 and if I didn’t buy her tanning lotion that apparently possessed super powers, I wouldn’t achieve my desired result. I decided to leave while I still had my dignity and $90, there was no guarantee that 5 tans would give my pasty legs enough color. I went down the road to another tanning place and asked about spray tans.

She gave me all the information that they had. I could get a custom airbrush tan or try the mystic tan booth. I decided that it would be unfair to this young girl to have her see me half naked to get a custom spray. She was young and impressionable, I felt that if she was considering having 7 kids in 14 years that seeing my rocking hard body would just paint an unrealistic picture for her. Not everyone can be this smokin’ hot.  She gave me a print out of tips for spray tanning to take home. My girls have had several spray tans and they always look good so I figured this was the way to go, again I wanted to get some color but not look like I was trying too hard.

I read the leaflet and did my homework, I washed my face, exfoliated my skin, avoided lotion, took of my deodorant, I was ready to go. 

When I arrived, she asked If I wanted to buy some lotion that will help extend my tan, (I guess everyone has magic lotion) I opted out of the lotion but I did pay $2.50 for sticky feet as they are supposed to help keep you from having orange feet. I didn’t want orange feet. As I was sitting there I was starting to panic a bit, was I doing the right thing, should I have bought the magic potion at the other place and done the 5 tans, what if I turn out orange, I’m already feeling short and fat, will I look like an oompa loompa?

Once it was my turn, she brought me back and quickly went over the instructions, she recommended that I tan naked. As she was explaining everything I was thinking, naked? Really? I must have stopped listening but didn’t realize until she left. I took of my clothes and was like, “which lotion am I supposed to put on my hands? The stuff in the pump on the counter, or on the wall? What are these wet wipes for?” Once in the booth I was told to wave my hand across the sensor and the spray will begin. What she didn’t tell me was that the sensor was actually a Jedi mind trick that erases your whole memory. I couldn’t remember what she said about my arms, where do I put them? At my sides, in the air, half way in front of me, I knew that I was supposed to hold my hands with my fingers apart but my arms….Oh God, why didn’t I pay attention. I had 15 seconds to make a decision so I put my hands straight in the air like I was praying to Jesus….Okay maybe I was praying to Jesus, “Dear Jesus please help me not look orange at mom prom”. The logic behind my warped thinking was that I wouldn’t have white armpits, my dress was sleeveless. Half way through the first spray Jesus told me I should move my arms. When the machine said to pivot, and place my feet on 2 and 4, I decided to hold my arms straight out in front of me. Then Jesus said, “you are still doing it wrong”. The next pivot would have had me facing the back wall…that couldn’t be right, could it? Then Jesus said, “how stupid are you”?? “Do you not want a tan on the back of your body”? The final spray I turned around and faced the back,I still wasn’t sure where to put my arms. Next came the drying phase, I remember the girl telling me something about making sure I left before the cleaning phase, but how long did she say I had? Why am I such a bad listener? I quickly exited the booth wearing nothing but my birthday suit and some sticky feet.

I Couldn’t wait to get dressed and get the hell out of there, I felt like Ross from friends. https://youtu.be/fvVT3N5dZq4

What the girl at the front desk failed to tell me when she sold me the sticky feet was that they are actually just mouse traps shaped like feet. I was stuck, like literally stuck to my sticky feet.  I wanted to cry, it hurt like the fires of hell pulling off my sticky feet. I think, no, actually, I know I would have preferred orange feet.

I got dressed and hurried the hell out of there. When I got home I texted my daughter’s Erin and Shannon (who often spray tan) to ask about how I was supposed to hold my arms and how bad would my tan be if I did the front 3 times instead of 2?  They thought I was hilarious and couldn’t understand how I could screw up so bad. I knew that my color wouldn’t come out for a few hours so I decided to go to bed and hope for the best.

I woke up early because I keep my grandson on Fridays, who incidentally has gorgeous golden brown skin thanks to his Italian father. I looked in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised that my tan wasn’t as dreadful as I thought it might be. I breathed a very heavy sight of relief. I went to grab my toothbrush and as was putting the toothpaste on, I screamed. OMG I have one brown hand….”how did this happen?”  My best guess is that when I was praying to Jesus, my right hand must have been in line with the mystic tan sensor. It was bad, like really bad. Luckily prom wasn’t until Saturday, I had a little time to try and figure it out.

I spent all day Friday drenching my hand in chemicals, lime away, comet, soft scrub with bleach, kaboom, acetone, salt scrub, baking soda and lemon, magic eraser, sugar and lemon, powdered hair bleach with 40 volume peroxide, and standing with my hand in the sink under a constant flow of near boiling water…. Eventually the color began to fade, my hand feels like a dry foot but it is currently a lighter shade of brown.

Mom prom was a blast, last year I set a goal to acquire a taste for wine. Amazingly I discovered that I like my family so much more when I am a little drunk. Why did it take me 46 years to figure this out? Why didn’t anyone tell me?  We ordered super cute wine glasses to commemorate the evening and I drank just enough to help me forget that I had one white hand and one slightly darker hand that burned a bit and felt like a foot. My date was super cute but he looked a little pasty!