I recently went to an beauty salon to get my eyebrows shaped before biology took over. I have always been embarrassed about how little I know about feminine things like pedicures, organic facial wash and drinking copious amounts of white wine. These are things I feel that I should know since I am a woman in her 30s.
I bought my first hair dryer this year, at the age of 34. At this age, I think I should be going on wine tours and celebrating my success. 34 is not the age where you buy your first hair dryer at Kmart and a trophy to commemorate the moment. Before my hairdryer, I was getting by sticking my head out the bus window and praying for the best. Which is coincidentally how I became an atheist.
Over the years, I have put myself through the same trials and tribulations as most women and I have the scars to show for it. Burnt hair from a hairdressing academy, badly painted nails from drunk girls night and a missing clit from a Brazilian waxing session gone awry. You name it, I have done it. All in the name of beauty! One of the things I loathe the most is getting my eyebrows done. I have never enjoyed the friendly conversation, which is really a hook to sell me things to polish what is left of my eyebrows. I prefer my beautician to be silent and cold like the touch of a nun. I do not have the will power to say no to suggestive selling.
I went to my favourite joint which is dodgy as a brothel. I have a good reason for this. Despite the all grey and mould colour scheme they were going for, they have the one thing no other joint had - an air of despair. No suggestive selling there. Just a lot of pill popping and tax evasion. I walked up the flight of stairs to be greeted by a woman with a thousand yard stare. The kind of lady you can see rolling cigarettes and destroying hope. There is a darkness lurking inside of her - perhaps the pain of a minimum wage job. She was unhappy and I was secretly pleased. I was very confident that there will be no conversation apart from "We only accept cash".
She grunted a few times and I knew what I had to do. I followed her into a dimly lit room and proceeded to lie down. She waved her hand around like a failed magician and I knew it was time for me to stretch the skin surrounding my eyebrows. I couldn't believe how in sync we were. She is the meth to my crack pipe. I stared into her beautiful dead eyes as she went on a rampage to pull out all my newly grown hair follicles. She was precise and the joy it brought her was unsettling. Imagine a meat factory worker who laughs every time he stabs a chicken. Now that is the touch of a woman!
Pain and the blood followed as she tore out whatever follicles I had on my face. I started to feel faint. I think at one point, I saw her foaming at the mouth and floating to the ceiling. She looked divine. This is the reason why I am the only customer sustaining this business! I did what I could to enjoy my moment of peace - the peace you get when you intentionally drive off and leave your kids behind. If this is the price I have to pay, so be it. I already bleed once a month thanks to Mother Nature. I had training. I can bleed from every orifice and still stand whilst giving birth. This is the power of being a woman.
Then for some unknown reason, she started talking. WHY!!! How am I suppose to converse with a person who has eyes similar to a two dimensional cartoon character. What are we going to talk about? The structure of lines? I paid $20 so I can bleed in peace and not converse. I picked a place with the worst rating and risked having no eyebrows after I leave. WHERE DID I GO WRONG? We talked and bonded as well as two parking meters could. We talked about the mould covered ceiling and how my face is slowly looking like a sun burnt tomato. Hahahhahahhahaa. BITCH.
Eventually the torture was over and I was tossed back onto the streets like a sandwich bag thrown from a car. I was so glad to be released. My quota for human contact was reached. I gladly walked the streets back to my car to the horror of everyone around me. My eyebrows were slipping off my face. This is my bloody shield. Do not talk to me, world! Even you, traffic infringement officer. Yeah, I jaywalked. Stick the ticket to my face. I do not give a hoot. It already looks like a used tampon. WHAT DAMAGE ARE YOU GONNA INFLICT?
Yes, I looked like a mess. And yes, I have committed a hate crime against my face. But let's focus on the positives here, I was not the victim of any suggestive selling and now I have a story for my friends till the next appointment. In the meantime, I will be gluing merkins to my face and blow drying it with my brand new $15 hair dryer from Kmart.