The Price of Beauty...

For those of you who know me, you are aware that I have very few qualms about sharing the intimate details of my many embarrassing moments. For those you who haven't been so fortunate to hear the details, get ready.

In my life, I have kept up with beauty maintenance in the following ways:
Waxing
Electroysis
Laser Hair removal
Hair Treatments
Vegetarianism- which is pretty much a diet
Pilates
Smoking

That stated, you should also know how incredibly painful all of the above are. Imagine a tiny needle penetrating the pores of your most sensitive areas, or wavelengths of laser energy pulsing beneath your skin, and then maybe you might understand the price of beauty.

Usually, I opt out of salon esthetics for my own at-home services for reasons including embarrassment and cost. I may be poor but I try not to look it-most days.

Since I've been in New York, I have managed to maintain my beauty regimes, but this past Thursday I decided to treat myself- to the most excruciating ten minutes thus endured. I went to Randee Elaine Salon in the West Village for a, eh hm, "lady wax." I read about this place in Time Out Magazine. It was voted as one of the best, fastest and cheapest places to go for all spa needs - and they had a spot open. A lovely woman, with a thick and untraceable accent greeted me at the counter and said, "ok baby, you come with me now." She led me through the waiting area and up a staircase. The familiar smells of ammonia and burnt hair instantly filled my nose. Good, I thought. Its clean. The room she took me into provided just enough space for the two of us and the table that I would spread eagle on. As she left me to undress, she patted the paper-covered table and gave me a reassuring wink. When she returned, I almost immediately blurted out, "this is my first time, " which of course was not true, but somehow saying so made me feel that if she thought that it was,  then she would be kinder and prepared for when the unstoppable distraction babble poured out of me.  All in all, the small chat provided momentary diversions in the moments where I could still breathe enough to say anything. She was understanding and patient and thankfully quick. That is until, during a particularly rough rip,  I accidentally jerked my left leg straight into her stomach. Mortified, I sat up and apologized while she caught her breath. To my credit, I am glad I had held out that long because had that slip happened at the beginning of my session, I am sure it would have taken twice along and been twice the sting. All in all, the entirety of those ten minutes was worth it and actually quite hilarious. But maybe only for me...