Beauty salon or torture Chamber?

What really happens behind salon doors.

I used to really love treating myself at a beauty salon. Even if I had booked in for some waxing. It was my time. Time to chill out, regain sight of my own skin etc.

It honestly used to be a really nice, relaxing experience. OK sure, waxing is never fun — but most waxologists would try to make the experience as comfortable and dignified as possible. You know, quality incense, really relaxing music or ocean sounds, nice decor, private rooms, compliments about your skin, its tone, your pretty eyes — and all worth the $200 or close you may drop at the end of it.

Until my girlfriend discovered a new place in Darlinghurst, close to the office.

I had booked in for a wax, manicure and pedicure ahead of a girly trip to Singapore. What I DIDN’T realise is that by their standards, what I’d actually booked was a wax, manicure and pedicure at exactly the same time. I have experienced the dual mani / pedi before — awkward but acceptable. You know at places like ‘American Nails’ where there aint no american, or anything slightly american other than the occassional treatment of old president Bush.

“Take off everything”. She says.

So I’m lying down on a treatment bed, butt naked, my dignity contained by nothing more than plastic shower curtains, velcroed together. Another woman enters. She has put on her glasses, her face is serious, she is carring tweezers in one hand a nail board in the other. Harro, she says. Before I can even respond she starts filing my finger nails. She stops and peers over the other lady’s wax work — plucking hair in between. Wax, pluck, file, flip over, pluck, wax too hot, file. Even the Celine Dion Album rip off with flutes in the back ground did nothing to soothe me. I feel like I’m being torn about one follicle at a time…

At this stage I’m thinking, at least I’ll be out of here quickly. But because my nails are being filed as I’m lying down and being attacked with hot wax — they’re crooked and my wrist is being twisted in an unnatural way towards the nail attacker. But of course, this is all my fault. I tell her I’m in pain.

“You’re too hairy. That’s why”.

“No, I’m in pain because the wax is too hot, then the other lady plucks my skin instead of the hair before she files my nails again making screeching sounds and they’re coming out crooked anyway”.

“He he he” she replies. “Lift your leg”.

And just like a dog, I did.