I have this thing about getting my eyebrows waxed. Mainly because my mom makes faces at me when we go out to dinner and …well I read her thoughts. She was a flight attendant for most of her life so she has a standard for how people (women) should maintenance themselves. I fear I constantly depress her in this area. But my eyebrows are virtually invisible.
No…I’m not a total freak. It just turns out that my skin is very light and my eyebrow hair is something in between blond and white. But it’s there! There is hair there. And it grows at a very slow pace. Which is nice – but the problem with invisible slow growing things is that you tend to forget about them. So about every other month I go and have them waxed. And inevitably the person doing my eyebrows has a HUNGER to dye them. But I resist. (Because of that time when I did and things went VERY VERY WRONG). But that is another story.
Today I went to the new “Princess Nail and Spa” that has been built four blocks from my home in Crofton. It is at the intersection of Rt. 424 and Rt 3. I went there because I do not like the smell of the other places I have gone to in the past - and I thought “well it’s brand new, maybe it hasn’t had time to smell yet”. Simple logic is not bad logic. But I was wrong. This place had an overpowering smell too...it was just wall paint smell that was overpowering in this instance.
New experience #1 –
So I tell the lady up front that I want to have my eyebrows done. I do this by using the international language of pointing. First at my head. Then at the poorly designed piece of shit sushi menu they offer as a directory of prices and services.
(side note – How is it that a “Nail and Spa” place would spend so much time installing a three variation wood inlaid floor with tile walls and color complimentary candles all of the fricking place – and not spend two seconds on the actual services list. Blows my mind.)
So this woman now knows that I am in their establishment to eliminate needless brow growth…and I go in back to one of ‘the rooms’. And it’s nice enough. Actually the place is quite nice. Everything is shiny and new. I am the only patron there so I am getting attention. (I am playing the part of the giant white girl in this scene. Everyone around me is like 5’2” tall.) I go into the room and lay on the very nice white contoured table with sani-wrap for my protection and she tells me to “weelax, way back and cwose my eye”. ☺ Yes…I realize I am going to hell.
So she does my eyebrows. And that’s fine and great. I tentatively open my eyes to see if she is done forcibly ripping hair from by eye area and I see her making a sad/concerned face at me. I make the same face back at her. Because my species is not that much more developed that doing the mirror technique of primates. I ask her what is wrong and she runs her hand over my chin. She is signaling me that there is still hair on my face. This vexes her.
I take a moment to myself and weigh the options. I happen to know that there is not fucking electrolysis emergency occurring on my face. There is hardly ANY hair on my face. There was only that of my newly removed brows. I spent 5 minutes inspecting my face this morning while deciding to come here. But if I don’t say yes to this woman I know myself well enough to know that I will spend the next MONTH feeling my face for clues to what ever the hell she was looking at. Secondly – I am having dinner with a woman that hates me tomorrow night and I do not need to be internally freaking out about her thinking I am growing a beard. It is worth more money to buy peace of mind. So I give this woman instruction to proceed with the international smiling and nodding technique. She proceeds to wax my whole fucking face. I shit you not. AND my neck.
As I laid there having my face tortured I just had to giggle. I had no idea how much this would eventually cost but every pore of my face was singing RIIIICCOOOOLLLAAA! Complete with the swiss chill air and menthol experience.
I hurt. BUT I was hair free.
New experience #2 –
The whole time I am at this “Nail and Spa” there is this techno music playing overhead. At fist I was cool with it. It was kind of exotic sounding. It had parts that sounded Asian and then parts that sounded Indian…and now and then a very British voice would kind of ‘talk-sing’ lyrics. It added to the exotic nature of the place. At first. By the time I was laying in my private room getting de-bearded the music had taken a *noted turn. Maybe it was that I could hear it better - or that I was more focused laying down with my eyes closed. But these songs started to get dirty. I mean not appropriate for children. Also not appropriate for old people or people with morals or…well me, even. This added to the internal giggle fest I was cultivating.
I felt Kim (hair remover extraordinaire) move away for a second – so I knew it was safe to open my eyes for a second without a stick of hot wax lancing my pupil. And looking at her she was completely un-phased by the lyric we had just shared witness to. The one about how his baby has something special for him under her skirt and that he was ready for it. Really ready. Yeah, this did not affect Kim. She smiled back at me as to say – ‘close your eye stupid white girl before you get hurt’ – this is hot wax.
The next song was about a girl that was sad that her man was far away - but happy because of her love of his tools. And how they reminded her of him.
I felt like I was on Candid Camera. Except that show no longer exists. And I don’t think they involve Asians who would not get the joke. But whatever. When I came out of my private room I had the face of someone who had just been told their arch enemy had died in a freak cow manure accident. I was elated. I immediately searched for any new customers that might have come in while I was in seclusion. But no..it was just I …and about 6 employees. Four of whom were women. And the whole lot of them were unflinching. No reaction AT ALL to the news that he just ‘helped his baby out with his bare hot hands’. I was in the fucking twilight zone.
And then I realized.
They don’t speak English.
They have NO IDEA what it is that these people are saying on the music overhead.
These people know words like chin, eyebrow, tips, fill-ins, deluxe pedicure. Everything else was in their native tongue. It was an amazing revelation.
And no fault to them – cause shit I don’t even know what goes into opening a store – but there must be a crapload of paperwork involved. So they must know an English speaker somewhere. But damn if had not yet been on site.
I now want to go back there with all of my friends. I can only hope that no one has clued them in by then.