What price, beauty?

Disclaimer:  This will be a post without a photo.  Why?  Because I’m not a big self-portrait kinda gal.  I never take those dressing room photos or bathroom mirror photos because I WILL forget and be shirtless or pantless OR Chuck will walk by in his skivvies, completely unnoticed until one of my children brings my blog up at the Christian school to show their teacher what kind of camera I recommend or how to make a Valentine wreath.  So there.

ANYWAY.  Since I tore my MCL (medial collateral ligament) in my left knee while snow skiing over Christmas, my days go much like this:

Get up.

Go out for breakfast.

Run a short errand.

Rest & stitch until carpool time.

Pick the boys up.

Rest & stitch until bedtime where I then continue to rest until it’s time for breakfast.

(Coincidentally, this is very, very close to how my days went PRE-injury but as the Bible says,  “judge ye not others, lest ye be judged or called a judgmental asshole by Noelle” — Book of Matthew, verse 7, slightly paraphrased.)

I digress.  Today, after a lovely breakfast with a girlfriend, I decided my short errand would be to get my eyebrows waxed.  Now, my grandma always drilled into me that you get what you pay for.  I knew better…. I have the absolute, most talented eyebrow waxer named Danielle, who is NOT expensive and who hand to GOD & placed on Barack’s grandma’s Bible, I will NEVER stray from again. But one day, when I got a pedicure, I noticed the lovely Asian people at the nail place also wax body parts as well.  I looked like Tom Selleck at the time so I thought, “Why not?”  A young, Asian man did my eyes and upper lip and I left very happy & slightly smug that the sixty-something man getting a pedicure (yes, you read that right) proclaimed “You didn’t even FLINCH!”  I don’t get many opportunities to feel like a badass, so you know, cherish the moments as they come.

Today, I decided, rather than use my BRAIN and call Danielle, to just run in there and get a “quickie” wax job, so to speak.  At first, I thought things were progressing nicely.  Nice Wax Lady did both eyebrows & started on the lip.  She seemed a little sloppy with the wax but hey, as long as my eyes are shut, no biggie, right?  It did cross my mind that perhaps my upper lip covered more acreage in her opinion than it did in mine but it would be over soon.  At one point a drop landed on my earlobe and another on my neck and she just ripped them off with fabric like it was part of the plan.  Someone was repeatedly sending me texts during all of  this and Nice Wax Lady would say, “You get phone?”  And I would say, “No.” And she would say, “Yes.”  This dialogue was repeated every single time the person who sent me 6 photos in a row, sent a text.  I still have no idea what it meant but finally she just sticks my phone in my face and I say, “No answering phone,” because as we all know, when a foreign person begins talking to you, you have to respond to them as if you too suddenly have no grasp of the English language!  C’mon, just ADMIT that you have answered, “Si, large chis dip!” when ordering at Senor Tequila.  Do not lie to me.  The waiter asks, “Rice & beans with that?” And you say, “Jes.”  ADMIT IT.

After finishing my lip, she bends down & I know the inevitable is coming……….  “Chin too?  Hair on you chin?”  I say, “Yes, I have a couple, you can get them too.”  She says, “LOT of hair on chin!”  I mean, for the love of God, perhaps I should just let them grow & guest star on Duck Dynasty! Damn! But of course I say, “Yes. Hair on chin.”  I swear she took that little wax-covered stick and began slathering on the hot wax like Pollock painting a canvas and every time she would put the fabric on and rip it off she put it right up in my eyes and said, “See?  See all that? LOTS of hair!”  When she finishes the chin, I start to sit up & HOLY HELL, if at that moment she doesn’t stroke both sides of my face and say, “I get all this too or you be all uneven, you know!” She gestured to her own cheeks as though I might have two large tufts of hair protruding that would cause small children to run and hide.  At this point, I honestly thought, “My God, what am I, THUMPER?”  But, of course, I said, “Just take it all. Please. Make even.”  I almost cried because I’m sure that my friend who is completely bald, has more hair on his head than I do at this moment and I’m wondering if Al Gore has to endure this torture when the little Asian people “take care of” him. She starts putting the wax on my face and the best way I can describe what she did next is to liken it to taking a piece of packing tape and jabbing it at a skirt to get the lint off.  Only she’s doing it with wax strips on my face.  OVER & OVER.  You liberals bitched about waterboarding?  Have I got some torture for you?!?!  Once my face is as smooth as a baby’s ass, she reaches for a mirror and I seriously feared I would look into it and know how Quasimodo felt when forced to look at his deformed countenance.  It wasn’t bad.  I am hair-free.  If you see me out, feel free to rub my cheeks.  I think it might bring you some sort of good, Asian luck.   Thank GOD, I crossed my legs, had on jeans and put my purse over my bikini area or I might still be there.

Also, Danielle, have no fear!  Next time, I come see YOU!

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One thought on “What price, beauty?

  1. Danielle says:

    That was so funny;) hope I run into you soon so I can feel those baby smooth cheeks;)

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