Okay, so yesterday I went in to get a bikini wax, right? As an aside, scheduling that with a man is totally awkward and all the reception people at the Beautique are men, except the one, and that lady is constantly on the phone. She seems like the type of person who answers the phone with "Go" instead of "Hello?" Anyhow, I'm not 12. I can buy tampons anywhere with no issues, but I'm always like: WHY does this man need to know what kind of wax I'm getting? You're allowed to add/subtract types of waxings once you're in there anyway...which brings me to my point.
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So anyhow, I am in there with this lady who *might* be American/might not be. For ladies who have been in my place, you understand that this has some effect on how they feel about waxing, etc. For example, if you've ever had a Brazilian do your wax, they don't give you the paper underwear, they don't tell you to wear your own, and if you ask for that paper towel thing to cover your hoo-hoo, they act like you're some prude. They're all about seeing every woman's hoo-hoo apparently. Non-Americans generally do a better job and with more gusto, but Americans are less up in your piece, which sometimes is appreciated. So this lady was a confusing person. Sometimes I thought she had an accent, and sometimes not, but she looked very exotic and all.
Let me make a side point, however. When I get my hair done, I always go to the same person. She is awesome. When I get a wax-- I don't care. Whether they look at my hoo-hoo or not, the way they tell me to hold my legs while ripping away my Mammalian tendencies--the end result is the same. True, some of them go a little farther in. But there's either hair or no hair. I'm not the type to get a style. And if it were some sort of style disaster, I put my pants on and walk out and it's all the same. It's not like a hairstyle. The person who does it is the same as the next to me because I just want the hair removed. No art, please.
But this lady made a big deal of getting repeat customers. Okay, I think--whatever. So I'm lying there and she's like-- you know, you're very hairy. You need to come in once a month. (Dude: you look at hairy hoo-hoos all day! Is it necessary to comment? This is awkward enough. It's like when airport security comments on stuff in your bags. You're like-- I know you have to go through my stuff, but do we need to make it more awkward by audibly acknowledging you are? "Hey, cool iPod." "Nice box of tampax!" NO! DON'T COMMENT!)
So fine. My hoo-hoo is hairy. I'm sorry. All my family is from the Mediterranean. I'm over it. Please get on with the burning pain of it all! Actual response: Oh. Yep. Eep. Uh-huh. (Know what I mean, Verne? For chrissake! Get a spine, me!)
Another comment: You know, we should do something about your dark mustache.
Me: The fuck? I don't have a dark mustache! Look, I am not one of those living in denial people. If I had a mustache, I'd damn well get rid of it. Yes, I have a few very fine hairs on my upper lip, but no one has ever mistaken me for a manimal. I am a MAMMAL. Okay, fine, waxing lady--you win. Now I'm all paranoid. Just wax me or whatever. Just do it and hand me the bill, for the love of God. My actual response: Oh. Okay. (I'm such a wanker.)
Another MF comment!!!: I see you've done your eyebrows recen...oh.
Me: Oh? Oh?!! I don't like the sound of that OH! waxing lady! I don't like it at all! I did my eyebrows last weekend! Actual response: Oh? You think I should get my eyebrows done, too?(Oy.)
Inevitable comment: Do you pluck your eyebrows out here (points to my temples) or do they just not grow?
Me (actual): Umm, they just don't grow out that far.
She: Well, it might look more better [sic] if they did. You should really use a pencil.
Me: I am SORRY my eyebrows aren't regulation length! But whose are that long? Seriously? I'm not the Mysterious Purple Pie Man of Porcupine Peak (ra tata ta tata tata, tata ta ta!)!! They're fine. It's okay. I am good enough, smart enough...
Actual: Yeah, I guess. (almost a cartillaginous spine developing there!)
She: I just like to be honest with my clients. You know, I also do facials and now that I looking at your skin (through this ultra-bright flourescent-lit, unforgiving, satan's toy of a magnifying glass), I can see you have a lot of...problem areas (I can see EVERY flaw and DAAAMN you have a bunch).
Me: OH. MY. GOD. WAX LADY OF MYSTERIOUS CITIZENSHIP AND UNKNOWN ETHNIC ORIGIN! PLEASE LIE! FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, LIE! I WILL GIVE YOU A BETTER TIP!
Actual response: Well, I am in kind of a hurry today, so I'm not gonna schedule a facial (though I did discuss my options with her after some prodding--*sigh*. But still-- you go, girl! to me. Spine: present!).
45 minutes earlier, when I walked into the salon, I was feeling pretty good. I had ditched work a bit early, the weather was nice, and several people told me how cute my skirt was and how nice I looked. Yeah. In that span, I was dissed in nearly every possible aesthetic way (though she did enjoy my skirt also--it was quite cute and involved satin bows), plucked, tarred, feathered, and had follicles stripped from every meridian. My eyes looked all puffy and my mouth looked all puffy--like I had just been in a bar fight with a bee hive.
Thanks, wax lady! My sometimes boyfriend didn't even freakin' notice! (Maybe, of course, it's because I DIDN'T HAVE A MUSTACHE BEFORE--YOU BIZARD!)
Of course, I'll be going back to her. She did a really good job. Oh spine--where have you wandered off to?
this is in or around Hirsute Suite