If this week's booked-solid schedule at Blue Mercury in Dupont Circle is at all representative of how many women across the country are balding their bits in preparation for tomorrow's inauguration of the pre-summer bake-a-thon, aestheticians from Oklahoma City to Lansing to Providence must be as exhausted as Rose McGowan's plastic surgeon.
Well, almost.
For those who don't program into their Microsoft Outlook calendar a recurring, every-five-weeks "Brazilian with ________" reminder, you might be surprised to find out it is not the physical act of spreading, ripping, spreading, ripping, plucking, spreading, ripping and powdering that an aesthetician finds most energy-depleting. On the contrary, that's the easy part -- that's the pie.
The draining part, as devoted reader and beautifier-extraordinaire J will tell you, is having to be every customer's sounding-board on issues ranging from I-hate-my-boss to I'm-in-love-with-a-married-man to I-hate-that-my-married-boss-can-only-give-it-to-me-Monday-through-Thursday. Or, if you frequent the Blue Mercury in Georgetown, it'll be more along the lines of I-think-I'm-bored-with-lunching-and-the-League and I-just-don't-think-this-new-nanny-is-going-to-work-out professions.
I can't say I'm any better at resisting the confessional effect that the combination of soft-lighting and wincing pain in the vicinity of the vah-jay-jay causes a woman, especially when I'm the kind of person who even without those lull-me-into-submission spa accoutrement will hold an audience with the line-up of Sunday morning day-laborers outside the paint store next to Whole Foods on 15th/P St. who wanted nothing more than to see my C-cups up-close but instead got an earful of my wah-wah-wah "I love him. I really really love him. That's why I can't let myself move on -- he was special, you know? He was the one." inner-dialogued pity party.
So yeah, barring specific individuals' names, as part of her $72 fee ($60 + $12 tip), Arika gets to listen to more minutia about my tawdry DC existence - i.e. hot Saturday nights with John Seigenthaler and his collection of in-the-clink props and sound effects - than practically anyone in my Treo's contacts list.
More than anyone who's gotten as much face-time down-there, anyway.
2 comments:
$72 every 5 weeks?? AAAHHH!
I really feel for those poor itinerant day laborers. It's not enough they have to work backbreaking jobs in the heat of the day and watch constantly for La Migra, they've got to endure the true confessions. Poor bastards.
N-Y-i-E
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