Spring Goals

I like the idea of applying the metaphor of spring cleaning to my life every few months - taking time to reevaluate, figuring out what's working and what's got to go, tidying up. I'm doing pretty well with my early January goals. So far I have read (non-sociology wise, that list isn't very exciting):

• Dry by Augusten Burroughs


• Barrel Fever by David Sedaris


• Prozac Nation by Elizabeth Wurtzel


• Imperial Life in the Emerald City by Rajiv Chandrasekaran

I've seen the following movies in the theater:

• Children of Men


• Venus


• The Last King of Scotland


• Zodiac

I also saw Dream Girls and Night at the Museum on a plane and numerous others at home on the couch by myself (but those don't really count since the point of the movie a month in the theater goal is not to be on said couch).

I'm falling behind on the letter writing, but 2 out 3 ain't bad. I haven't bought any mascara. And on the topic of beauty products, I've thought of a new goal: This summer I will not attempt any self-tanning. Every year I do it, every year I fail. There's just entirely too much effort involved - you've got to exfoliate, but not moisturize, or moisturize your elbows and knees so they don't get all orange. You've got to let it dry which involves hanging out naked for a bit, and this can really inconvenience your roommates. Your sheets get all nasty and you always, always miss a spot. I have at least 5 bottles of creams, sprays and foams that are more than 1/2 full.

Last year before a wedding I decided to go for the professional spray tan. I thought I was just going to be in a booth, but I ended up getting the airbrush application. To say the experience was "interesting" would be an understatement. For starters, I wasn't really "prepared" to be naked in front of anyone, and unlike all those slim, toned, hairless wonders on the reality shows who are ready to jump into a hot tub at a moment's notice, I need at least a 48 hr warning when a stranger is going to see me sans vetements. At first I wasn't sure whether or not my "artist" was gay. There were some context clues - the bandanna with the bejeweled skull and crossbones on it, the all-too-precisely ripped jeans, the cut off "Free Li'l Kim" tee shirt - but I didn't want to be presumptuous. Then I got a closer look at the necklace he was wearing - the larger metal charm was, indeed, a cockandballs. That was the clincher. So 40 minutes and numerous, shameful poses later I was covered with bronzer. I took the bus home and frankly cannot believe that someone didn't accuse me of being a racist because I looked like I was in black-face. My roommate almost choked on her own saliva when I walked in the door. I had mixed feelings of relief and terror when I finally showered the next morning and the water running down the drain looked like it had been used to wash a bunch of school children's paintbrushes after an exercise with watercolors. I was still looking a little "ethnic" at the rehearsal dinner, but was nice and bronzed for the ceremony. Still, never again. That experience falls squarely in the "just not worth the effort" category.

Last week I was reading Glamour and they had the obligatory article on self-tanners and I thought, "Ooh, I should try that one." No! I won't! I'm putting an end to this madness and admitting defeat. Maybe Victorian pallor will come back in style.