Alright. Before we go any further, I want it understood that my tryst with the beauty parlours never extend further than a quarterly haircut.
I've never actually had a pedicure or a manicure and God forbid, I've never done my eyebrows! (it would help if I had any!)
Well... I don't intend to mourn for non-existent facial hair (that sounded weird) here. Today, I decided to give my hair a trim and the poor thing was asking for it! Almost all the strands on my head were taking things right out of Nuclear Physics and split up at random places like an excited Uranium nucleus. It ultimately resulted in a LOT of hair on my comb... more than what I'd like!
And since the "barber" near my place was like a light switch (either a mushroom cut or a tonsure), I always decide to avoid his shop. I know I'd look like a total freak with either of his preferential hair styles! And this left me with just one choice. The local beauty parlour.
And since all I needed was a small itsy-bitsy trim, I decided to go late. And when I reached the place at around four in the afternoon today, I was quite surprised to find not even enough space to seat my "not-so-excessive" hiney on any of the benches they had.
It seemed as though every woman in the neighbourhood had decided to come. There was one lady who wore some weird white paste on her face and another who was wincing slightly as one of the 'beauticians' bent over her face menacingly with a white thread that she'd doubled about to pluck facial hair out. That was when I thanked the lucky stars that blessed me with scanty eyebrows!
The women there seemed to share admirable camaraderie! Well... that was bound to be there if they all met together every Sunday, enduring hair plucking! But since I was quite new to the place, I chose to remain in one corner, observing the women preen and complain about their beauty or the lack of it.
And as I sat there, I became aware of one thing. Looking pretty is not a walk in the park! There involved a lot of meticulous procedures which when done incorrectly, could make the victim look like Rapunzel's mama. Now it all became logically clear why celebrity women invited their stylists to dinner and holidays! These people play 'God' to many of the less beautiful and make them the many Divas who grace the earth today.
And if I thought Quantum Mechanics was a bit complicated, I was badly mistaken. There was one lady who was asking the customer which creme she wanted for her facial... And all of them apparently did the same thing!
I waited patiently for my turn to come though I felt like I needed to get away as soon as possible! And when my turn did come, the person who was working on me went on talking as she snipped inches away from my tress. It was amazing... her steady hand would be something that nervous surgeons would die for. But I found the other contributor to the conversation, another customer a little annoying. She had a permanent squeak to her voice and if that wasn't enough, she waved her hand about animatedly as she went on and on about unreliable servant maid. I was understandably scared when she kept stepping closer to the person working on my hair (well... it was only a trim... but what the heck! The word "working" sounds so... a la elite!).
In the end, I am quite relieved that the issue with my degenerating hair is dealt with. And now, I don't have split ends. So, I guess I'll leave that world of a million cremes and spreads to the experts and stick to the things I know.
And I still am not tempted to get a facial just in case any one's curious!