Monday, September 6, 2010

Not by the Hair of My Chinny Chin Chin!

It's quite ridiculous the amount of time we spend on looking purdy! Even a more conservative woman who sees the insanity in extreme vanity needs to take time out of her day to moisturize and control her body hair so she can put her best face forward when she ventures out into the world. It's something we as a society have come to expect. When you initially meet someone you categorize that person in your mind based on their level of personal care. I'm sure some of you are thinking "I only judge people by the color of their soul" response..."your full of shit.". It's basic human instinct people. If you meet a person who is more on the "unkept" side of the spectrum (unless you exist there yourself), and you are forced to interact with that person you may have an epiphany "they are a great person"  - on the inside. Yet you still may not invite them down to the pub for drinks with  your friends. Who wants to be the one with the smelly, toothless friends. Not I. I think the man who romps through my dumpster "Fred" is a wonderful character. He makes me feel better about my self when the odd wine bottle or pop can ends up in the trash, because I know its not really going to end up polluting the environment. That being said just because Fred seems decent during our brief interactions doesn't mean I'm going to invite him out for my best friends birthday martini's. Now I know your thinking - that situation is pretty extreme, I'm aware, but sometimes you need to be extreme to get your point across.

     Beauty much similar to farming is subject to "the law of diminishing returns". If you double the seed there is no guarantee you will get twice the yield. If you look like you spend every ounce of your free time on your beauty regiments you will not always get the best reaction from others. Disclaimer: This statement does not apply to you if you are a stripper or work at hooters. (society just assumes you have no outside interests, they don't expect more from you.) People at the "overly kept" side of the spectrum scare of potential mates. The thought of spending hours and hours waiting while your partner preforms their daily routine just so you can walk down the street to grab a cup of joe isn't highly appealing. People may also stereo type you as being vein, they may assume the depths of your run about as deep as a kiddies wading pool.

Both of my examples demonstrate that you need to take care of your personal hygiene but you should probably avoid trying to look like Pamela Anderson (for lack of a better example) if you want to be taken seriously. I was recently attempting to take care of my personal grooming when I had a traumatizing experience. I was on my way to the grocery store to pick up yet another bag of salad and a side for my very undomesticated dinner. When I noticed one of those cheepie nail/hair removal salons. Giving myself a quick glance in the rear view mirror I thought, my eyebrows could use maybe a little grooming so pulled into the nail salons parking lot.

 The salon looked quite standard upon entry, several little nail stations located at the front and about four old style massage chairs at the back where pedicures are preformed. One of the tiny workers glanced up at me asking "What you want" in her sharp broken English. I pointed to my eyebrows. I'm not very good estimating how much English someone who speaks broken English actually knows, so pointing is my preferred method of communication in such situations. The worker nodded and yelled to the back in a foreign dialect. A sweet little lady appeared and walked to the front with a quite happy looking grin on her face. The other lady gestured towards her and barked at me "follow her, she speak no English". Great I thought, she could remove half my eyebrow and I have no way besides making an angry face to show her my displeasure.

 I followed the lady back into a small, bright room with what looked like a doctors examining table against one wall. Now this wasn't my first rodeo, so I hopped up on the table and lied down. The lady cut the waxing strips and started examining my face to plan her method of attack. She very meticulously waxed both of my eyebrows and plucked the strays the strips couldn't remove. Most males out their are probably grimacing, but I assure you having you eyebrows waxed is very minor. She handed me a mirror so I could view the results, I beamed, perfect arches! Mission accomplished. I was about to hop off the table and stride up to the front proudly, to pay and receive compliments from the other workers in the salon. I know they do it just so you'll come back, but I take it where I can get it. Before I could swing both legs over the side of the table, the lady grabed me by the shoulder and moved her face closely to mine to examine something. I wondered if she was looking at a horrific mole that had been growing under my nose that I haven't been able to see all these years. The lady squinted as she leaned her face closer to mine and uttered the word "lip". My immediate reaction was "Do I have something on it" as I clutched my face, visioning the milk moustache commercials of the 90's in my head. She uttered the word "hair" in response. AHHHH hair!!!! So not a milk moustache a real moustache I thought. (I don't even drink milk so I don't know why I keep referencing that) I was so horrified by the thought that I had a real live moustache growing unannounced to me right under my nose that I laid back down on the table without a word and tried to hold back tears. She cut bigger strips this time and proceeded to wax the right side of my upper lip. When she tried to show me the first strip she pulled off my face I looked away in horror. I could not face the quantity of hair, all I could vision was half of Burt Reynolds upper lip in that little strip. She continued on. Since this was my first lip waxing rodeo I had no idea when it would be over. She finished the left and right sides of my face and proceeded to apply some wax under my chin. At this very moment a single tear slid down my cheek. So as well as my moustache I have chin hair. I'm not even close to menopause yet. What the hell! She beamed and offered me a mirror. I took it and examined my face. AHHH I thought as I viewed the red ring circling my mouth. I was horrified. I gave her a courtesy smile and hopped off the table. As I made my way to the front I got the usual compliments from the salon employees. I wanted to throw a fit. My face was bright red why are they complimenting me - oh ya they want repeat customers, DANGIT.

The redness on my face did eventually dissipate, so that evening I ventured out to a friends house warming party, where I shared my experience with the other women there. My mind was immediately put at ease as when the twenty somethings readily dished about the curly hairs they have found protruding from their chin and other inappropriate areas on their face. (much to the horror of their husbands, fiancees and boyfriends ahhh ahaha) Moral of the story is if your in your twenties and you are offered a chin or lip wax. Take it! As Dr. Phil says can't change what you don't acknowledge. Words to live by my friends.

P.S. - You may notice my impeccable spelling! I found the spell check button!!!!!!!! :-)

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