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CONFESSIONS OF AN AUTOMOTIVE BEAUTY TECHNICIAN

I was driving to work this morning, as I do most mornings. Nothing special about today, really - except that it was a fabulous hair day, which has nothing to do with anything, really, except that I like to record those for posterity whenever possible. At the stoplight at Sepulveda and Wilshire in Westwood, there's usually a back-up of traffic that requires me to wait three whole light cycles before I can cross the intersection. This used to bother the hell out of me, until I realized that it was the perfect time to put on my make-up. I have created a beauty regime that fits neatly into three light-cycles at Sepulveda and Wilshire.

Yes, I confess it. I am an Automotive Beauty Technician. And I'm not ashamed, either. You should not scorn me for powdering my nose and applying my eye and lip liner during the first light cycle. Nor should you deride and dismiss me for applying mascara and blush during the second. Nor should you even roll your eyes and groan because, immediately after applying the last stroke of eye shadow, I just happen to tweeze a stray brow hair before the third light changes, and I can steam full bore southward toward Olympic.

I do not understand why people have such an uppity attitude when a woman decides to apply her make-up in the car. I understand if she's trying to do it on the 405 Freeway at 60 miles an hour, but while sitting at a stop light - or in the case of Sepulveda and Wilshire, three stop lights - what's the harm? You should be thankful that I've chosen to use this time to do something productive and relatively relaxing, like applying make-up. I would estimate that my level of road rage has been reduced by nearly 85% since landing on the make-up solution. When you stop to think about it, I could be spending that time cleaning and reloading the clip of my Smith & Wesson 9mm, instead of applying the three coats to my lips (matte lip pencil base, vibrant long-lasting lip color, and shiny, high-impact gloss) that are required to achieve that perfect, natural-looking sheen, or carefully curling my eyelashes, then bathing them in very expensive designer mascara (red, to match my hair), so that they stretch out at the corner like little, feathery ballerinas.

I will brook no criticism of this method of multitasking. You forget, while you're looking at me, passing your petty little judgements, I've been watching you, too. I have seen what you people do when driving to work. When I've glanced into your cars as we all wait at the light, I see a lot more distasteful things going on than eyelash curling. Lately, you'll be happy to know, I have made a concerted effort to keep my eyes to myself and give you guys your privacy. The least they can do is extend me the same courtesy.

So it boils down to this. If you don't gripe about my bronzer application and eyebrow tweezing, I won't gripe about your nose-picking and... well... you know what you were doing, so why go into the sordid details? Is it a deal? Good. Now that that's settled, anybody want to buy a slightly used Smith & Wesson 9mm?

Learn more about this author, Amanda Sowards.
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