Don't Be Gentle

After a few days of realizing with building annoyance that my eyebrows were starting to resemble wiggly little caterpillars rather than svelte, foxily arched tools of come-hither, I knew it was time to find a waxing shop in my new work neighborhood. The girls in this building are likely the types who enjoy long, leisurely days at the spa, covering their pores in cucumber slices and and having each hair delicately plucked out with a thread while aromatherapy mists waft over their perfect ski-slope noses. But me? I like my waxing like girls with low self-esteem like their boyfriends: fast, cheap, and brutal. Slap it on, rip 'em out, that's what I say.

Which is why I knew I had to be very specific when I asked a coworker for a nail-shop suggestion: "Where can I go around here to find an Asian lady to dump hot wax on my face and rip all the hairs out of it?"

My to-the-point question received a to-the-point answer and my brows are, once again, looking lean and mean (if a little bit red and puffy). That's what you get when you ask for it rough.