I found this story that I wrote back in March
and decided that even though it is months after the fact, when I tell the story
to friends, it generates some great laughs. So I figure, ah hell why not tell all of you. Everyone should have a good laugh
once a day, even if it is at my expense. He’s one for today, feel free to share with your friends. I know at some point in peoples lives, everyone can relate to this.
****
Well, OK, I did a dumb thing today. I have found that having a pedicure is a very
relaxing process and since my feet are not that ticklish, I can hold my own and
not make any sudden moves or end up in a burst of laughter and squirming around
in my chair. I also have a family member that has found this to also be a nice
treat, however not because he wants to explore his feminine side. He suffers
from ingrown toenails periodically and so we have found that a trip to the
salon actually, once a year, has helped reduce this tremendously. He was
thrilled when he saw a man walk in today to have his feet tended too. He
appeared to be a football or some type of sports player. I merely responded
everyone should have this done at least once in their lives. It is very
relaxing if you can get past the tickle, for those that are ticklish. So for
me, I usually stick with having a manicure and pedicure, and am done.
So, when I go into these places, I generally know
what it costs and what the process is and how long it takes. For some reason
things were different this time. I had a momentary lapse in my judgment. This time I fell into the full Monty sales pitch
for some additional beauty treatments. They wanted to wax my eyebrows.
“What’s
wrong with my eyebrows?” I wondered
as they kept on and on. For years I
have used tweezers to prevent that overgrown cat whisker look. It has never
hurt, and I have never had a problem keeping them shapely and even, but I went
ahead and said OK, let’s do it. My thinking this time, sometimes tilling an
area gives a new landscape guideline for trimming the hedges. We walked through
the nail processing stations, past the massage chairs and soak tubes, where I left my family member to continue his pedicure, and went deep into the back of the salon into a very small room. In a matter
of moments I found myself lying on a padded table, as the technician starts in
with the small talk before what really lay ahead.
"You like thick eye brow, no?" she
spoke with such an innocent and soft voice. She was a shy sounding woman of Asian,
I think, decent. She was always smiling and when she spoke she would look
directly into your eyes convincing you she could do no harm - who would have thought she could inflict such horror.
"Yes,” I said, “I prefer a thicker
brown, but not a uni-brow." Of course I laughed, as I thought my comment was
funny as an image of Eddy Munster came to mind.
From behind me, I could hear her rustling
around putting things together and rounding up her gear to being my beauty
treatment. Immediately a thick layer of
rather hot wax was applied to the area between my eyebrows and eyes, followed
by what looked to be like a piece of paper tape. In seconds it was done - a
quick wax on, wax off. No pain, not even the feeling, of what I would like to
call, a miss pull. You know, the one piece of hair you can see in the clutches
of your tweezers, but when you go to yank it out, it pulls you eyelid out about
six inches, makes your eyes water and the hair curls, not release. Come on people, raise your hands, you know
you’ve felt this pain. Raise your hand and shake your head yes. Only you and I
know why you’re raising your hand. Be proud to admit it – You’re human. Smile.
OK, let me get back to my story. So anyways,
because I was feeling overjoyed that I experienced no pain, I was quickly
suckered for the next process.
With a continued innocence in her voice she
said, “You have hair on lip, not pretty. We wax?”
Feeling exceptionally confident, as if I had just been
transformed into a Rachel Welch type beauty, and very embarrassed that she made a
remark about those pesky think hairs that sporadically find a home on my upper
lip, I agreed to keep going.
She quickly went back to her counter, fiddled
through her facial hair processing products, and then began step two in my
beauty transformation. This time, things looked a lot more industrial and I
couldn’t help but wonder if the scattered hairs on my upper lip, which I also
attack with tweezers, had tripled in numbers in less than two weeks. Last I
knew I was not sporting a Tom Selleck look, I only had six hairs.
“We put more wax on, makes skin so smooth.
Make you beautiful.” She smiled.
“Beautiful? Sure,” I said in a chipper
voice. Oh I can be so naïve at times.
As she placed the wax on, she went further
than my upper lip, you would have thought that I had a mustache like the father
on Orange County Choppers, but I didn’t say anything, she knew what she was
doing and the best part was that I knew it wouldn’t hurt. She put the white
tape over the wax, but this time left it on as she proceed with the same
process on the other side. At that point, an image of a scene in the Movie “Steel Magnolias”
jumped into my head that as I lay there, I must have looked like Weeza.
She must have seen that movie after what
happened next. She put her things away and then came over to me, got ready to
pull the first piece of tape off, and smiled.
“OK…We Pull.”
I’m sure my upper lip had extended about
three feet from the table as she grabbed the tape and yanked it like a really
old sticky band-air on a very hairy leg. Yank it quick, get it over with. I
immediately sat straight up. Dang I had
no idea I had that kind of stomach muscles.
My eye watered uncontrollably taking any makeup I had on my eye lashes,
down my face.
“OUCH! What happened? My lip is on fire.” I
yelled out. Again, she smiled, unaffected by my reaction to what I thought was
going to be a pain free extra beauty treatment. It then donned on me, obviously
this wasn’t the first time someone reacted in the manner. Here I am six foot
tall, and this lady who stood all of five foot nothing, took me out with one
pull. HOLY LIP PAIN BATMAN!
“You lay down, we do other side.”
“I still
have another side to do!?” The thought of a second pull had me as scared as a long tail cat
in a room filled with rocking chairs. I even pondered, maybe I could just leave
and warm up the wax and remove it myself when I got home and use my husband’s
razor to match both side. Course any
person knows that with shaving, you run the risk of things growing back more
lush.
“Trust me, I do it quick.”
Not wanting to walk around in public with hot
wax and tape on my face, I laid back down to finish what I had started. Just as
quickly as before, she grabbed and pulled, but things went horribly wrong. She
had suffered a miss pull and only half the tape had been lifted. Now both eyes
blurred my vision with tears and my nose decided to join in on the act and did
its share of adding to this scene with various sizes of snot bubbles growing out of my nose and popping
on my face. I looked like my face was
having a meltdown. If I were to have gone outside at that very moment, I know
people would have come called a hazmat team thinking I was suffering from some
toxic exposure. Yes, I watch way too many
Si-Fi movies.
This time, she didn’t wait for me to lay back
down, she walk around to the front of me, reached up, and pulled again, which
released the tape and wax, then she immediately applied a creamy ointment on
all the areas she had treated. I felt like I had been beat up. This wasn’t a
beauty treatment; it was a form of torcher and folks, boy did I ever pay for this in so many ways.
“You wear bikini?”
OH HELL NO! My immediate thoughts as I tried to get my
breath back when she suggested a bikini wax, followed by her grin, had me ready
to run out the door screaming - “Oh baby
you are not going to try to manicure, touch up, primp, or remove anything down
there.” I got off the table, gave her a tip, and then I took my bald upper lip, my pride and my
bikini area and quickly got out of dodge. Could you imagine a wax treatment in
the no-zone, and having a miss pull down there? That is something that Steven
King could collaborate into some twisted horror story for sure. It could be
called “Night of the Brazilian.”
