Wax on/Wax off
“So where should my threshold for pain be at right now?” I asked Marj as we jumped on the W train and headed downtown.
“I’d say between high and extremely high.”
“Have I ever done anything mean or wrong to you?”
“No.”
“So why are you leading me into the depths of torture that I am about to experience? I can’t go through with this?”
“Oh shut up, Elle. You’ll be out in ten minutes and it’s totally worth it. You’ll feel like a new woman.”
“More like a newborn baby that is nowhere near puberty.”
She grabbed my arm, lead me down Prince Street to a door that had Haven written across it in choppy, artistic font. “You okay? You don’t look ok.”
“Am I shaking? I think I’m shaking.”
“Just think, you’re doing this for Anthony.”
“If I continue thinking that I may despise him later. I need a stronger tool of motivation, like maybe I’m doing it for world peace.”
“Right because you being smooth as a baby’s bottom is going to halt war in the Middle East. Come on!”
She led me through the doors and down into the spa’s lobby. Soft Indian inspired music played from hidden speakers and flowery scents entered my nostrils. Everything was decorated in earth tones and pale purples. It was all so…soothing.
“This is the calm before the storm, isn’t it?” I asked Marj.
She rolled her eyes at me. “Go check in. That’s the line (she pointed) for check in and that’s for check out.”
I had a strange flashback of being checked into the hospital for my recent surgery and thought maybe this was a hint I would need doctor visit follow-ups after having this procedure done as well. Knowing Marj might just pound me if I didn’t get on with it, I went ahead and told the receptionist my name, all the time wanting to ask if there was a backdoor.
While waiting for my appointment I played my Ipod for Marj who marvels at such technology and constantly told myself this couldn’t be that bad. Ten minutes later a small Indian woman by the name of Yasmin called out my name. I gathered what nerve I had left and followed her into a small room that was decorated in hopes of masking the fact that it was truly a room of torture for unknowing women. A medical examination like bed sat against the east wall on which Yasmin told me to lay down with no clothes covering me from the waste down. I wanted to ask her where she went to school, what she got her degree in, who had authorized her to put me through hell? But, there was no time for that. I was already here, locked in a room and there was no going back. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that Marj had told me this would only be ten minutes of my life and that afterward I would love her for it.
Except it wasn’t ten minutes, it was twenty.
“Since this is your first time getting a Brazilian wax, it’s going to take a lot longer than it would for Marjorie,” Yasmin said.
“Thanks,” I tried to smile through the tears that wanted to burst through, “she failed to tell me that.”
What does it feel like? Imagine your arm was as hairy as a man’s. Imagine you place the stickiest tape ever created on said arm and someone tells you “Breathe in…and now breathe out” and as you breathe out they rip every strand of hair out of your arm. Imagining? Well times that by at LEAST ten.
Twenty minutes later I was numb and my legs were shaking from being stretched into positions that lead me to believe I need to get into Yoga in order to feel comfortable doing this again.
“You should make your appointment now for February. Everyone who hasn’t come all year wants to come and get this done the second week of February.”
My skin was still pulsing and swollen and screaming at me, and this woman wanted me to commit myself to another round? She lathered me with hydrocortisone and baby powder and sent me on my merry way. I couldn’t even walk straight. My “little one” was all confused. “Have I been born again mommy? Why is it so cold and airy down here all of a sudden?”
Marj sat waiting for me in the lobby with a huge grin on her face. Why she actually thought I would walk out of there ecstatic is beyond me. I went to the Check Out, paid the $54 for my pain, which is actually a small price to have someone take so much time all up in your personal area like that when you think about it (if only it didn’t involve hot wax and skin swelling).
As we walked out Marj wanted to know how I felt, what Yasmin did, how bald I now was, but unfortunately my bus was coming and I couldn’t share this entertaining information with her until the following day. Was it worth it? That night I would have said hell no. But now, two full days later I’m actually feeling very free and clean. I’m not sure if that’s enough to make me schedule appointment number two, but I still have some time to think about it.
The next morning, my friend/co-worker comes to my secluded desk and asks me how it went. We both get into gritty details because there is no one around to hear us… or so we thought. I suddenly see Beetz freeze and cock her head back to look into my boss’s office. “Hey Mike, what’s up?”
Every non-existent hair on my little one stood up and I held my breath.
“Not much,” he responded which proved he was really in there. Mike, our IT guy, had gone into my boss’s vacant office to synch her blackberry much earlier in the morning and I thought he had left. Apparently he had not, and more apparent was the fact that he had heard our entire conversation, which leads me to the reason I am telling this personal story in the first place. Because if IT guy now knows that Elle J Rivera is walking around with a Brazilian, then all my readers have the right to know as well.
“I’d say between high and extremely high.”
“Have I ever done anything mean or wrong to you?”
“No.”
“So why are you leading me into the depths of torture that I am about to experience? I can’t go through with this?”
“Oh shut up, Elle. You’ll be out in ten minutes and it’s totally worth it. You’ll feel like a new woman.”
“More like a newborn baby that is nowhere near puberty.”
She grabbed my arm, lead me down Prince Street to a door that had Haven written across it in choppy, artistic font. “You okay? You don’t look ok.”
“Am I shaking? I think I’m shaking.”
“Just think, you’re doing this for Anthony.”
“If I continue thinking that I may despise him later. I need a stronger tool of motivation, like maybe I’m doing it for world peace.”
“Right because you being smooth as a baby’s bottom is going to halt war in the Middle East. Come on!”
She led me through the doors and down into the spa’s lobby. Soft Indian inspired music played from hidden speakers and flowery scents entered my nostrils. Everything was decorated in earth tones and pale purples. It was all so…soothing.
“This is the calm before the storm, isn’t it?” I asked Marj.
She rolled her eyes at me. “Go check in. That’s the line (she pointed) for check in and that’s for check out.”
I had a strange flashback of being checked into the hospital for my recent surgery and thought maybe this was a hint I would need doctor visit follow-ups after having this procedure done as well. Knowing Marj might just pound me if I didn’t get on with it, I went ahead and told the receptionist my name, all the time wanting to ask if there was a backdoor.
While waiting for my appointment I played my Ipod for Marj who marvels at such technology and constantly told myself this couldn’t be that bad. Ten minutes later a small Indian woman by the name of Yasmin called out my name. I gathered what nerve I had left and followed her into a small room that was decorated in hopes of masking the fact that it was truly a room of torture for unknowing women. A medical examination like bed sat against the east wall on which Yasmin told me to lay down with no clothes covering me from the waste down. I wanted to ask her where she went to school, what she got her degree in, who had authorized her to put me through hell? But, there was no time for that. I was already here, locked in a room and there was no going back. I took a deep breath and reminded myself that Marj had told me this would only be ten minutes of my life and that afterward I would love her for it.
Except it wasn’t ten minutes, it was twenty.
“Since this is your first time getting a Brazilian wax, it’s going to take a lot longer than it would for Marjorie,” Yasmin said.
“Thanks,” I tried to smile through the tears that wanted to burst through, “she failed to tell me that.”
What does it feel like? Imagine your arm was as hairy as a man’s. Imagine you place the stickiest tape ever created on said arm and someone tells you “Breathe in…and now breathe out” and as you breathe out they rip every strand of hair out of your arm. Imagining? Well times that by at LEAST ten.
Twenty minutes later I was numb and my legs were shaking from being stretched into positions that lead me to believe I need to get into Yoga in order to feel comfortable doing this again.
“You should make your appointment now for February. Everyone who hasn’t come all year wants to come and get this done the second week of February.”
My skin was still pulsing and swollen and screaming at me, and this woman wanted me to commit myself to another round? She lathered me with hydrocortisone and baby powder and sent me on my merry way. I couldn’t even walk straight. My “little one” was all confused. “Have I been born again mommy? Why is it so cold and airy down here all of a sudden?”
Marj sat waiting for me in the lobby with a huge grin on her face. Why she actually thought I would walk out of there ecstatic is beyond me. I went to the Check Out, paid the $54 for my pain, which is actually a small price to have someone take so much time all up in your personal area like that when you think about it (if only it didn’t involve hot wax and skin swelling).
As we walked out Marj wanted to know how I felt, what Yasmin did, how bald I now was, but unfortunately my bus was coming and I couldn’t share this entertaining information with her until the following day. Was it worth it? That night I would have said hell no. But now, two full days later I’m actually feeling very free and clean. I’m not sure if that’s enough to make me schedule appointment number two, but I still have some time to think about it.
The next morning, my friend/co-worker comes to my secluded desk and asks me how it went. We both get into gritty details because there is no one around to hear us… or so we thought. I suddenly see Beetz freeze and cock her head back to look into my boss’s office. “Hey Mike, what’s up?”
Every non-existent hair on my little one stood up and I held my breath.
“Not much,” he responded which proved he was really in there. Mike, our IT guy, had gone into my boss’s vacant office to synch her blackberry much earlier in the morning and I thought he had left. Apparently he had not, and more apparent was the fact that he had heard our entire conversation, which leads me to the reason I am telling this personal story in the first place. Because if IT guy now knows that Elle J Rivera is walking around with a Brazilian, then all my readers have the right to know as well.
posted by Elle J at 9:15 AM
3 Comments:
LOL
Were you shouting at the lady telling her that you hate her like The 40 Year-old Virgin?
By the way, I HAVE had my arm hair ripped off. I got some of that packing tape stuck on it when I helped a friend move.
It was VERY painful.
The things we women have to go through.
OUCH!! I have to admit i've always wanted to do that - the pain wouldn't bother me as much as someone seeing all my business.
I'll stick w/ the razor for now.
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