General Board
Ode to my Mustache
Posted By: Allene (216.175.121.84)
Date: Saturday, 3 November 2001, at 11:55 a.m.I once had a mustache; I have a mustache no more. I paid a small Asian woman to rip it off in two pieces. Then she showed it to me, as if to prove she really did the job. As if I could have ever doubted it. Have you ever had a ½ inch by 1 inch slab of skin ripped forcefully from your body, twice? That would describe what hot waxing your mustache is like.
You may ask why would I have my mustache hotwaxed. I know I am . After all I have had it all my life (or from whence it first appeared above my upper lip. My guess is around puberty when all that other hair started showing up.) It wasn't like it was a huge, hairy caterpillarish creature. Hardly! It was quite the opposite. It was a very dainty delicate girlie mustache, with just a few black hairs around the corners of my mouth, maybe about 7 tiny little hardly noticeable hairs per side. The rest of the damn thing was blonde! You wouldn't even know it was there unless you were really looking for it. Then you could hardly have helped but be charmed by its delicate nature and poise.
So why did I have it removed? The answer is at once simple and yet quite complex. The primary reason would have to be because it was there. The secondary reason would be because the small Asian woman asked if I wanted it removed. "Why not?" I thought, I'll try anything once! HA! I'll tell you why not. Because IT HURT! It hurt like hell. I promised her I would not scream before she did it, and as one who endeavors to remain true to her word, I did not scream. I may have leaped about 2 feet off of the seat when she jerked the first side off with near G force, but I did not scream.
That left the second side and a roughly a minute to anticipate the upcoming pain. As she smeared the honey like hot wax on the second side, I tried to reason with myself. I simply couldn't go around with ½ a mustache, that is even worse than a big bushy mustache. I tried to pretend the smearing on of the hot wax actually felt good, to somehow compensate for the forthcoming pain. HA! Right. Before I could work my way around to chickening out, RIP! There went the second side. Again my ass left the chair, but at least I didn't scream. Sure, tears streamed down my face, I peed a little, but I didn’t cry.
After she was done, I thanked her, paid her, and yes, I tipped her. It wasn't like she made it hurt on purpose, she was only doing her job, and she was apologetic about the pain. Then another small Asian woman who worked at the salon, and had overheard me say it was my first time being waxed, came over and asked me my name. "Allene" I said.
"Allene, yoo loo lie amoviesta," she said with a big smile on her face. What? I look like what? OH, a movie star! Yeah right! Nice try lady, it still hurts like hell. I am missing two inches of skin above my upper lip, I may never get a date again, and you say I look like a movie star. Hmph! Being completely convinced that hair was not all she removed, I snuck a quick peek in the mirror. The skin actually appeared to still be there, only it was now an angry dark pink color. When I touched my upper lip with my fingers it felt weird. I couldn't quite figure out what the texture felt like, though I was certain it wasn't skin. Finally after mauling my upper lip all the way home, I figured it out. WAX, it felt like WAX! Even now, maybe an hour afterwards it still feels strange; kind of puffy, and sticky, and tingly. When I got home I had a long look in the bathroom mirror under bright lights at it. Yep, that sweet little mustache that never hurt anyone, especially me, was gone, and in it's place was something resembling a huge cherry Koolaide ™ mustache. I am now, at the very moment of writing this, wearing a huge neon red mustache, which believe me, is utterly noticeable, not to mention painful and funny feeling. I miss my sweet little delicate mustache.
Also, I strangely feel as if I have entered into a new phase of womanhood now. One that recognizes the need to tweeze and hot wax. One that can no longer over look those random stray hairs appearing out of moles or under the chin, because they have indeed started to become to numerous to ignore. The time of denial is over. I am going to become a regular at the salon from now on. Alas my innocence (and youthful, mostly hairless face) is gone, along with my dear little mustache. Sniff.