5 May 2011

Time For An Update!

Wow - so much can change in a week, huh?

Since the last time I blogged:

  1. Osama Bin Laden was still walking around like the sack of shit he was
  2. There was hope in the air about the kind of government the voters of Canada would elect
  3. I still hadn't seen some of my University friends in nearly a decade
  4. There was more hair on my face
  5. My sister was still a single lady
Naturally, I'll focus today's post on the most important thing on that list: my sister's wedding horrible eyebrow wax job.

So, my mom graciously takes my sister, fellow bridesmaid Susan, and me to go get mani pedis at a nail bar a few days before my sister's wedding. I had mentioned before to my mom that I might go get my brows tidied while I was there as they could use a bit of shaping. For all my joking about my facial hair on this blog, I really do take relatively good care of it. We weren't talking about a "Bert" situation on my face - I just needed a little sumpin' sumpin', ya dig?

Anyway, we're getting our manis and pedis done and I'm noticing a couple things about the place and service that were a little different from what I was used to. Like, when dealing with the dry parts of my feet - which I've learned are called "móng guốc" in Vietnamese - I've been told to never use a metal object (like a razor or those cheese grater-like Ped Eggs) on them. But, alas, such an item was used to slough off the protective rock-like barrier from my heels. No longer can I walk on broken glasses, fiery coals and the pungent underwear of Rock of Love contestants past without cuts, burns or disease. An uneven nail here and a nip from my cuticle there and I wan't feeling super confident in the place. Certainly not confident enough to let them put melted wax near my eyes.

As we were waiting for our polish to dry, my mom brought up the eyebrow wax. Unfortunately, she did this right as an aesthetician was hovering nearby.

"No, I don't really need to get it done. I'll just pluck when I get in," I said.

"Oh, Jennifer, just get it done here. It will take two minutes," she said.

"Umm ... how are we on time? Should we be heading back to go to the wedding rehearsal?" I said, searching for an excuse that wouldn't offend the staff.

"We have plenty of time. Just get your eyebrows done here and be done with it," my mom said, oblivious to my excuse-making.

"Yes, you want eyebrows done?" the aesthetician chimed in. "Come with me," she said happily.

Ugh. Why, why, why was I raised to be so two-faced polite?

"Ok," I said stupidly and followed her to the hair ripping room. And wouldn't you know it, it was my nail tech who was doing the waxing? Great.

I will long story short this by saying that when I came out, my own mother, the person who is supposed to support and nurture and foster that elusive thing called self-esteem looked at me and SNORTED. Loudly. With spit flying about. And even after she contained herself and the conversation mercifully carried on to another topic, she would glance at me and start howling again.

I was even asked if I was wearing dark eye shadow. Nope - that was my normal skin colour. That glowing hot whiteness just above it was the skin on my brow that had literally never seen sunlight until that day. It was exposed for the very first time, an effect that made me look striped.

Here's a pic of all of us in the party - I am the short toad on the end. Would you believe I was wearing 3" heels? I was. That's how unfair life can be. Would you also believe that I used a brow pencil that day? So even that sliver of eyebrow you see in the photo below is about double of what I was actually left with for the wedding:


Oh, right, the wedding. I should probably talk about that, right? Well, there is my beautiful sister, with her handsome new husband, who threw one hell of a party, who probably didn't get asked that night if she was expecting (unlike a certain sister of hers - despite said sister enthusiastically drinking like a non-pregnant person would). She's in Hawaii now on a honeymoon and will then depart for a life in France where she hopes to take the spring off before taking up a vocation - probably pastry making. Please join me in saying it: What a bitch. Congratulations!

I'll post more about the festivities a bit later. It deserves a post of its own!

9 comments:

Anonymous,  5:31 pm, May 05, 2011  

Despite your supposed eyebrow issue (looks fine to me!!) you and the wedding party look great!!!

Anonymous,  11:08 pm, May 05, 2011  

With the eyebrow story I had to check out your photos from the wedding on your auntie's FB page - your eyebrows are slender & becoming! lol Enjoyed hearing about your mom snorting at the salon!

Karen 10:53 am, May 06, 2011  

Congratulations to that bitch ... oops ... I mean sister of yours. LOL. I look forward to hearing about the wedding!

Molly 12:33 pm, May 06, 2011  

I have to say I just discovered your blog through STFUParents and have been dying, especially reading the 50s housewife series--I used to be kind of obsessed with vintage ads and things that require gelatin, though I was never brave enough to cook and eat them!

Meghan,  10:04 pm, May 09, 2011  

The bitch comment reminds me of a Mother's Day card I saw and could not resist buying for at least one of my many mommy friends (bless their hearts...) Anyway, it's one 20's-ish talking to another:
"Do you know how much Moms have to put up with?"
"Don't end your sentence with a preposition"
"Ok, do you know how much Moms have to put up with, bitch?" (I think emphasizing my sentences with a swear word is the only thing saving me from dangling prepositions!)

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Need words? I'm a Toronto-based freelance writer who injects great ones into blogs, websites, magazines, ads and more. So many services, one lovely Jen (with one 'n').

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