One of my girlfriends and I have started meeting up to take care of our waxing needs, and it’s a great opportunity to hang out together. Last night was our second waxing date, and I had been looking forward to getting my legs professionally waxed since our last date four weeks ago.
Well, as I was trekking up to Oakland for my appointment, I had timed the trip so that I would arrive exactly on time. And theeeeeen the Bart was late. I was busily knitting when I noticed that the train was not moving. We were underground, so I couldn’t even tell how far we were. I HOPED that I had zoned out a lot a missed a few stops and was almost where I needed to be. But no. I was three stops away from where I needed to transfer trains. And still underground, so calling the waxing bar to let them know what was going on was … challenging.
I eventually get through to someone ten minutes after my appointment was supposed to start, and the receptionist was decidedly unhelpful, which may in part be due to the fact that I did that annoying thing phone customers do when asked to hold: I said no and plowed forward. She almost told me that we’d have to reschedule the whole thing, which is when I nearly lost ALL OF MY SHIT on Bart. But then she told me that I’d have to choose between my lady bits and my legs. How am I supposed to make that choice?! More people see my legs but I’d already had my lady bits done and didn’t want to have to start over. You can be damn sure I wasn’t going back up to Oakland before my next waxing date in four weeks.
I don’t know if you know this, but it takes me an HOUR AND A HALF to get there. NINETY MINUTES. I could have sat at home and watched Aladdin in that amount of time! That would have been WAAAAAY more fun.
When I FINALLY show up, swallowing tears, after walking two blocks in the wrong direction, the receptionist has taken away my choice and told me to prep my lady bits. Well, I’m glad that was the body part I was leaning toward anyways. Next thing I know, I’m on my back having hot wax spread on my most intimate body parts.
Apparently, you don’t get any wine when you’re running late for your appointment. I could have really used a glass of wine right around then and had been looking forward to it for the entire Aladdin lengthed trip.
Feller was wonderfully sweet about how sad and disappointed I was, especially since he had told me that I didn’t need to wax my legs. Which is adorable. And incorrect. But he suggested I go get my legs taken care of today in SJ, since I had the day off and had been so looking forward to it. So I found a lady with some free time and took care of that nasty business on my legs.
I was able to book an appointment last night at 1130 pm online with Waxing at Tiffany’s, which was awfully convenient. Her little one room salon is one of several individual aestheticians in the building complex, but interestingly, the only one who lists legs among her services. And she was SO FRIENDLY.
You know how most of the time you go to a salon or something similar where a person is working very closely on or around your body, and it’s kind of awkward because you feel like you should be talking to this person but, unless you’ve known them forever, you don’t really have anything to say because they are essentially a stranger? Tiffany wasn’t like that. She’s one of those people who is really good at getting other people to open up around her, asking a lot of questions and seeming to be genuinely interested in what you have to say. (My hairstylist Erica at The Studio by Angi is also one of those people, and she’s awesome at cutting my hair.)
So all that to say that finally, FINALLY my legs are smooth and hair free and wonderful, and I’m so happy I got them waxed today.
The Alluring Danger of Dilettantism 