Since it’s the most intimate of relationships, that between myself and the ever growing circle of people I’ve never met who read here, I thought I’d share my morning. I think it’s the Benadryl, lowering my inhibitions.
I needed to get my legs waxed. I have one woman that I use and have used for years, I’ve followed her to three different shady nail salons at this point. Great for her, not good for me is that she’s the least kept secret in the neighborhood. And always booked on Fridays. My plan was to go yesterday, but the girl was home sick. Now, did I really have to do this today? It’s cool and gloomy, I won’t be putting shorts on in the next three days. But yes, I had to do it today because I have to believe the rain will stop and the temperature will rise any minute now. I’ll be honest, it’s been a while since I last went. I don’t want to say how long, but the odds are “Summertime and The Living is Easy” was playing on my iPod. Don’t judge, getting waxed is a luxury in my budget, why stretch the dollars when my legs are encased in socks, jeans, and snow or rain boots?
A new place opened across from the grocery store. Much higher end than the “salons” I generally frequent, but I was certain they’d be able to take me right away. Excellent, I figured I could bring my little cart, get waxed, and then go straight to the store for dinner ingredients. And beer, because Friday Night Madness. Since they’re new, maybe they’d even have a special discount. Which they did offer, a free eyebrow wax your first time in, as long as you’re getting something else waxed too. I don’t generally get my eyebrows waxed. A couple of times a year I go to the threading place, $7 takes care of it. But, free!
Along with the contrast of bright lighting, clean corners, and elegant bottles of lotion, their wax was different. Fancy. A lovely color, and the woman peeled it off without needing to use strips of cloth. Cool. Friendly gal, chatting away as she worked, asked me questions, “complimented” me on how ungorilla-like (paraphrasing here) my legs were considering the amount of time since my last wax, told me all about the benefits of this special wax and lotions of more complicated than it needs to be process they use. I wanted to tell her to relax. I’m not about to become a regular, but I wouldn’t forget to tip her. My upper face started feeling a little weird. At first I didn’t notice beyond the normal hey, someone just plastered hot wax on your skin! But by the time she was finished, I felt like I was having to push my eyelids open. Hmm, mirror time. Yes indeed, big welty hives around my eyes, across my forehead, and starting to go down the side of my face.
“I think I’m having an allergic reaction.” I kind of couldn’t believe I had to say this, since she was, yanno, looking at me.
“Oh? Oh no. It’s just sometimes if it’s been a long time since you’ve been waxed, the body releases histamines, causing a few hives.”
What the fuck, is she Mel Brooks? Anyone else remember History of the World, Part I?
Comicus: Stand-up philosopher
Comicus: Stand-up philosopher. I coalesce the vapors of human experience into a viable and meaningful comprehension.
Clerk: Oh, a bullshit artist!
I could have run straight home, but it hadn’t begun to rain yet and I was right across the street from the grocery store, so I did my shopping, kind of amused by people noticing and not commenting but staring at the welts on my face. To complete the perfect morning, it was a long, long line. There was a baby/toddler in a grocery cart next to me, cute little girl. She stared too, so I smiled at her in the hopes that my face wasn’t so scary she would begin crying. Her response in a really loud and clear voice, “I did kaki.”
Maybe she was offering it for my next wax.
All I know is it isn’t even one in the afternoon, and I’m thinking about a beautiful moon I saw the other night, wondering if it’s bedtime.