I basically called my mom for help. Except when I say mom, I mean an esthetician.
I felt like I was always in for a surprise getting into my little red Jetta after school most days. Highland Park High School is one of the few--as in, like, four--American public high schools with a multi-level parking garage, with an astute attendant, security cameras, and assigned spaces.
I went to Lake Highlands High School, and parked in the open, beneath the oppressive Texas sun. My car, steaming on the inside so hot that the glue holding the fabric onto the ceiling panel began to melt, produced some pungent odors. Most days I guess it smelt like melty crayons--at least that's what EVERYBODY says the inside of turn-of-the-century Jettas smells like. (Which was so irritating, by the way. I've been known to slow my roll to about 25, and then reach over their laps to fling the door open and literally shove the jerk out of my car.)
Some days, though, it smelt like the sultry basement of an equatorial grow house. Then there were days when it smelt like the wet cat food that the older girls would pour into my air vents, or the milkshake that they'd throw on my windshield, which would, at some point between fourth and seventh periods, melt and bubble into my air vents. I think that the only thing those chicks excelled at in school was twatting, which meant I excelled at skipping just to get away. Seriously, I went to, like, three hours of school in total my junior year.
Highland Park High School also happened to have a very lax attendance policy (as is normally the case with rich-folk schools, yes?), and my high school BFF that went there would split to pick me up in her black SUV every day at noon behind the school in between the portable buildings. I'd hide huddled in the back while she would roll her eyes to Rosa, the parking lot attendant who half-assedly would refuse her exit privileges. "Oh please, I don't even go here!" she'd laugh in a weird mix between a Texas and Minnesota accent.
I'd heard that Rosa was easily bribed with cigarettes and donuts, but Karen's argument got her every time. She couldn't prove that Karen even went to school there simply because she refused to incriminate herself by showing a student ID card. She'd just shrug and lift the gate every time. Then Karen and I would go to Neimans to play with makeup and now I do this while my high school tormenters are... lol who cares!? Thanks, twats!
Slutty legs! I almost forgot. So one night upon finishing up at my retail job, I drove to the mall for the sole purpose of investing $32 in Leg Shine at the Mikey Kors store. It was brilliant all around--smelled great, looked great, and applied like a freaking deodorant so you didn't end up with brown sparkly palms, which, I think all slutty dressers would agree, is the absolute BANE of our existence.
I used it ALL THE TIME, and I'd still use it if it magically appeared on my desk and didn't require a trip to the store (errands are exhausting without the Jet). On one especially steamy school day, the cloud of fumes that exploded after cracking my front door were AMAZING because I had left the Leg Shine stick in my center console, where it melted everywhere, and perfumed and glittered my car for years later like a skanky wick-less candle.
I had only used the stick a couple of times! So annoying!
Rather than, I don't know, buying a new one, I got creative when it came to leg sheen.
The "ethnic" hair section at drugstores is so intriguing! (Although all of us here are irked by that phrase.) It's like its own cool-kid club, and I am totally not allowed. Like, what do you even do with all that glycerin? Queen Helene, did you really just put the word "CHOLESTEROL" on a tub of conditioner? It's ONLY $3? And y'all like cholesterol conditioner, but eff the lye, correct? Seriously, please teach me in the comments, I'm endlessly curious about these products and have a feeling that most are totally inappropriate for my hair.
Then I saw Pantene try to push it's way into the ultra-exclusive shelf space with the Relaxed & Natural line. And like forcing my way into a seniors-only party with my friend whose older brother plays varsity soccer, I exploited my long-formed relationship with Pantene to finally break into the "ethnic" hair section.
But it wasn't for hair, because I'm super-intimidated still and not even sure if I want to activate my curls. It was for the aerosol can of straight-up OIL for my legs. I believe it was the Intensive Oil Sheen Spray, but it appears as though this item has been discontinued.
Walgreens does carry a similar product from Motions that's almond-y! It smells AMAZING. Obviously you're going to be misting oil out of a can, so use sparingly--just a little leaves a lot of shine. Plus you don't want to douse your clothes. I mean, use common sense. Don't leave a layer of oil residue on the floor to slip on when you bring your great legs home wasted. (I've never broken my neck from shining my legs.)