I’m Italian. Like, fully Italian. It should come as no surprise that I’ve been waxing nearly every part of my body since I turned 12. This post isn’t about hair removal as such; it’s actually about the woman who waxes me. I’ve been seeing her for more than a decade, so I know her pretty well. I’ve always liked her; she’s kind hearted, pleasant and always happy to see me. The thing, though, is that she’s crazy.
I feel like I’m insulting her or laughing at her, so I’m going to choose my words very carefully. I truly do enjoy this woman and wouldn’t dare change estheticians. Plus, she’s already seen my vagina, and how many times am I gonna have to flash that thing around town before I get another reasonably priced Brazilian?*
What I’m trying to say is that she often makes my appointments with her very, very awkward. I don’t have the heart to say anything, although thoughts along the lines of, “Are you kidding me?” and, “WTF?” constantly roam through my mind.
For example, she once asked me, “Isn’t it weird that people cheat on people?” while waxing my bikini line. Another time, she told me that she’s not ready for online dating. What am I supposed to say to these things?
By far the strangest situation she’s put me in occurred right before I went to the Dominican Republic. She was waxing my legs when she started telling me about another client of hers (something she often does). “This lady, she was seeing a police officer. They were an older couple, you know, maybe in their late 30s. They’d been dating for a while, they were happy. One day, as she was leaving a restaurant, three police cars swarmed her. The cops came out. She completely panicked, asking what she had done. A few seconds later, another cop car pulled up. The guy got out. It was her boyfriend. He proposed to her. She was really freaked out. What a weird way to propose, no? But she said yes!”
I didn’t know what to say to that either, although I can see why she thought it was a good story. Well done, I guess.
A week or so later, in the Dominican, my boyfriend and I only had access to two English-language TV stations, BBC & TBS. They weren’t like the ones we get back home; that BBC only played shows starring Gordon Ramsay and that TBS only played re-runs of Home Improvement and Everybody Loves Raymond. Whatever, we weren’t there for TV anyway.
One rainy day, we had little choice but to watch their daily Everybody Loves Raymond marathon. I’d never really watched the show before, but I learned that I like it. It’s pretty funny, come on. Anyway, one episode featured Ray’s brother, who is a police officer, proposing to his girlfriend… in the EXACT. SAME. WAY. MY WAXING LADY. DESCRIBED.
So she didn’t tell me another client’s story; she really just described an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond.
She is starting to worry me.
*I am never getting one of those fuckers again. I remember the pain vividly.