#9. I’m Just Saying…
As a single mom, money is always an issue. Figuring out what bill HAS to be paid immediately versus what can wait for a month or two is a constant juggling act. At the bottom of this hierarchy of needs is personal grooming. Manicures, pedicures, etc. are indeed a rarity, unless I have found some amazing local voucher deal. I did buy a Brazilian wax voucher sometime ago, and finally decided to tough it up and hop to it. ‘I’m gonna wax and be like a real person’, I thought.
So I was ushered into the tiny wax room of a Vietnamese Nail Salon. I knew it would hurt, but I was ready for it. The Wax Woman instructed me to get naked from the waist down in her very broken English. There I was, spread eagle in the family way. The Wax Woman put on the first line of wax on my bikini line. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. Before I had a chance to react, the Wax Woman invited in the two Vietnamese women at the door. We were all squished in this tiny room together. There I was on display with three small Vietnamese women seemingly discussing my nether region like it was a spectator sport. Sounds like, “Wha!” and giggles were audible in their conversation presumably about my female bits. One of them even told me to lose weight. It was a Roast!
Humiliated, I figured I could salvage the day of grooming by getting some hair dye and giving myself a fresh new look. (I don’t think anyone is buying the grey hairs as highlights anymore.) Going to get my hair done at the salon is a thing of the past. For that one-hundred dollars plus I would blow on my hair, I could buy food, clothes, etc. But, a box of colour from the pharmacy is right in my budget. I went home and squeezed the bottle of “Chocolate Mahogany” all over my head. I sat there for twenty-five minutes anxious to see how fabulous my new dark brown hair would be. I washed it out and dried it. Oh shit. My hair is black. I look like an old weird crazy goth lady. It’s sort of like Angelina Jolie’s hair when she was creepy and kissing her brother. Shit. I can’t afford to go to the salon and have it fixed, and I fear if I try to re-dye it a lighter shade, my hair might just fall out. Best to quit while I’m, in this case scenario, ahead.
My vagina is sore and feels violated. My hair looks like the mother’s in the Addams Family. My son walked past me and looked quizzically at my hair, “Mid-life crisis?” I should have cut my losses after the waxing audience episode. I’m gonna look like Marilyn Manson for the next couple of months till my hair can stand a new dye. There’s always hats right? Great. Maybe my hair will fade with washing… Staying positive. But I didn’t like today at all. I’m just saying.