Here at e-L's amazing journey, we really do try to keep it clean. You know, there might be the occasional swoon over a certain ageless rockstar, or perhaps a super-smart tv star or two, but for the most part, we try to keep it above the waist, keeping it more cerebral. Sure. Having said that, e-L is about to delve into areas never-before explored...you know, in blogland that is...
So my aesthetician is on an extended sick leave (I say "my" as if I own her, but clearly she's just the friendly girl who rips hair from me on occasion) and I do wish her a speedy recovery, for reasons which are about to become abundantly clear (and also because I want her to feel better). Since I have no idea how long she's going to be off, I was pleased when the owner of the place called and said she'd be happy to book me in for my waxing with one of the "new" aestheticians. So ok, sounds fine, but little did I know that "new" meant not only new to the spa, but also "new" to the profession. Oy.
So at the appointed time, I head on down and am greeted by this "new" person - she's friendly as all get-out, takes my coat and tells me she's all ready for me *cue horror movie incidental music* and leads me to the spa room. She leaves me to get organized (as is the custom) and when she comes back, she's all smiles and let's get down to business. So we chat, and have you ever done the bikini wax chat? It's like no other, really. "How was your day, can you believe this weather, any plans for the weekend?" all while coating your crotch with blazing hot wax. Surreal. Anyway, she gets all set and red flag number one: she's clumsy. Clumsy. Not a word you normally associate with this profession. So there's wax dripping, strips knocked off the counter, gloves dropped, lamps hit... Okay, no big, it's obviously nerves, she's new to the place, I'm new to her, I can handle this. All the while she's super chatty, spreading the wax, chatting, more wax, chatting. Now, I'm no professional, but I do know this little equation: wax goes on liquid + too much chatting time while not removing wax = wax hardening to lavender-scented concrete. This would be red flag number two. So okay, now for the removal "I'm just going to take the strip off.....now" Ohholymotherofgod. "oh gosh, sorry, I bet that hurt!" Um yeah. But ok, whatever, I've got good pain tolerance, we continue. Eventually, through chatting, all is revealed (no, thankfully not all that) and she is, in fact, a brand new graduate from aesthetics school! And this is her first bikini wax! And nope, she's never ever had one herself! Which explains why she seemed to have no idea of the Nazi-grade pain she was inflicting. Oh, and all of this first part? Took close to 20 minutes, which is way, way too long to hang out on a vinyl table in your gitch.
So...moving on to the next side...
Things go from bad to worse now, as the wax continues to harden and she starts to sweat and practically needs to use the table as leverage to rip the strips off and e-L is nearly on the ceiling at several points. But still, I'm handling it all until I hear... "uh-oh...um....I think I need to go get someone..." I'm all wtf??? What is going on down there? So I look and there is a strip and it's way, way too far in for my liking. Great. So off she goes and fetches someone else, and now there are 2 of them peering at my privates and this is how it went down:
2nd girl: oh dear
1st girl: I'm so sorry!
2nd girl: don't worry, we'll just have to use the scissors
me: you have to what now??
2nd girl: we'll just have to cut it out! (said in a cute sing-song voice like she was offering freezies)
1st girl: (now in tears) oh my gosh I am so sorry, I feel so bad!
me: haha...oh not to worry (for the record, I don't think I've ever had anyone cry whilst gazing upon my nether regions before, I really think that's a first)
So now the two of them are performing this wax-strip removal surgery, and as I was lying there, I flashed back to the time I spent in labour and delivery, and fully expected one of them to tell me how far I was dilated, and to breathe through the next contraction. And I nearly sat up and said "thanks but no thanks, I'm taking my leave now" but then I thought, you know? This isn't going to kill me, I can deal. The poor girl really did feel so badly, she was crying for goodness sake. And doesn't everyone deserve a fair chance? I mean there are nurses out there setting their first IVs, giving their first injections, someone has to be the first patient, right? Everywhere there are stylists doing their first haircut, police officers making their first arrest, librarians conducting their first reference interview...my point is, everyone has to do something 1 time first, in order to do it right again and again. Practice makes perfect, as the saying goes, and so I hobbled out of the spa room (for reals) and up to the counter to pay, and they kindly offered me a 50% discount and loaded me up bunch of free samples of lotion, sunscreen, body wash, etc. to help with the pain and suffering. I told them it really wasn't necessary, but they insisted and thanked me again for being so patient, so understanding. I honestly think the phrase "dream client" was used, but that could have been the pain talking...
So I was glad I stayed, because what if her first time had been with someone who wasn't so patient and understanding? It could throw a person off their chosen career, it really could. Some pain in the crotchal region is a small price to pay for helping someone along on their path.
Plus? I get to blog about it. And I'm a whore for free samples.