Wednesday, March 12, 2008

A taxing waxing tale.

I decided today that I have ignored the insane amount of hair on my face for far too long, and since it wasn't raining yet and is supposed to rain starting tonight and lasting until July 5th, I put my mind on waxing.

When I first started with the eyebrow waxing thing, my "friend" told me that after a few waxes I wouldn't really ever have to do it again, or at least not very often. That was like in 2002. Now if I go even 4 weeks without waxing I look like a caveman. I think my facial hair grows FASTER now. So the waxing industry I'm sure is happy to report that way back in 2002 another slave was born. But it isn't just about removing facial hair.

I started out having it down at my salon every 5 weeks when I have my hair done. Easy - one stop shopping. Then my wax girl there met a guy from Cirque du Soleil and ran off with him (or some dang thing), and I moved to Mexico. I think I went a good solid month and a half without maintenance when I first moved there, and finally got the sac to make an appointment at Dharma Spa. Which was great - I loved Lulu and the fact that we could just barely communicate. When I moved back to Portland I had Xiang at Nail Express do the duty, and she talked me into the lip wax. Who knew I had a mustache? And later, who knew I had a soul patch? These people, man, nothing but wax pushers.

I liked Xiang, I really did/do. It's just that it's not in and out, like I like it. She just chats and chats and oh my God just remove the hair and let me get the hell out of here! So I sort of phased her out, and started at this place in the Washington Square Mall - same cost, but an Aveda salon. Nice, peaceful, aromatherapeutic, blah blah blah, and some Russian chick. By appointment number two she wanted to be my best friend. So after four appointments, I started dreading the wax situation. I mean, I don't mind the mindless blather most of the time, but you know, when you STOP the service to continue with your chit chat you're eating into MY TIME now, and really, I just want the job done. My problem is I get too friendly. And since probably nobody else does, the poor waxing girls (what are they called really, anyway?) are so starved for conversation they just can't help themselves.

So today, I could have gone back to the Gigi Salon, but I just didn't have the strength (erm, lack of blood?) to go in there and paste a fake smile for the benefit of Natalya or whatever her name is. Couldn't do it. So I asked Nicky for a suggestion, and she pointed me in the direction of a place over by the Target near work.

I went in and nobody was there besides three staff members animatedly chatting away in Vietnamese, which is good and bad - good because they took me immediately, bad because if I like the place it will probably close for lack of business. The lady had no English, beyond the words "You", "like" and "OK", which is good for me, and I found myself actually having to stop myself from trying to chat her up. The problem is I am just so dang friendly. I am not building any kind of a relationship with this lady. I'll just go back in there next time and not chat and I'll be in and out of there in 10 minutes, the way God intended it. It was hard to do, and my eyebrows are mildly uneven, and I had to stop her from waxing the entire left side of my face, but she didn't/couldn't waste my time chit chatting and it was cheap and I no longer look like Albert Einstein. Mission accomplished.

2 Comments:

At 7:29 AM, March 13, 2008, Anonymous lgrt said...

yeah... you really are a people person... that is why you're my favorit.

The name of the position of the girl who preps you... Fluffer... Oooo wait that is a different hot wax job.

 
At 2:46 PM, March 13, 2008, Anonymous Anonymous said...

Sweet mother of God, Joyce. THat was the funniest thing I've read in a very long time. You've missed your calling. Becky H.

 

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