4.1.19 InstaShortie – Adventures in Nose Waxing

“Have you ever had your nose waxed?” she asked. My eyes popped open, wide with confusion. She leaned over me, her face inches from mine. Coffee on her breath and judgement filling her eyes. I wish I’d kept my eyes closed.

“My what, what?” I asked. I’d heard her loud and clear. I knew what she was asking, but it wasn’t exactly something I’d expected to hear. Before she could answer, I closed my eyes again, winching as she plucked a stray hair from my eyebrows.

“You know, just clean up the nose hairs so you don’t have any sticking out.”

I was fairly certain I did not have any Repunzel nose hairs, but a morbid curiosity took over. Still, the thought of ripping hair from my nostrils wasn’t exactly appealing. “Oh,” I whispered. “No, I think I am good. It’s allergy season after all.”

“We’re going to do it,” she affirmed. “Your filter hairs are in the back, we won’t get those.”

I nodded as if that clarification made a difference. The hairs belong in my nose, not on hot wax being ripped out of my nose. She yanks another stray hair from my face and giggles. “That was a good one.”

Convinced she was a masochist, I closed my eyes and focused on something other than hair being removed from my body. I suppose I was grateful she was just talking about nose hairs and not another unpleasant waxing opportunity. If she even hinted at the b-word, I was gone. Even if only one eyebrow was shaped. I’d suffer through my own Tweezers before I offered up my bikini area to hot wax.

Her focus returned to my horribly uneven and misshapen eyebrows… her words. Every so often, she’d muse on the quality of this hair or that hair as if my self worth were tied directly to the length or girth of the hairs above my brown eyes. I keep my eyes closed and mouth sealed shut. Nothing I can say will add to this one-sided conversation.

“Ok,” she finally said. I go to sit up but before I can lift my head from the pillow something soft and hot is shoved into my left nostril. Her fingers clamped down on either side. “Breathe through your mouth or the right side, your choice.”

I opted for my mouth. The thought of accidentally inhaling hot wax terrified me. I prayed the onion bagel I’d had for breakfast no longer lingered on my breath. The weight of her breasts pushed on my head as she leaned over me, pinching my left nostril as she yanked the wax and stick out. She giggled with delight.

“Do you want to see it?”

“Yes,” I replied, unsure of my motivation to give such an unexpected answer. I opened my eyes and gazed on the orange wax, now prickly with my snot hairs. I had a sudden urge to stick my finger in my nose to feel its bareness, but I controlled myself.

Before I could add my own commentary, my right nostril was clamped down around the wax. Already a pro, I closed my eyes and let my mouth take over my nose’s breathing duties.

Well, at least if he happens to look up my nose later tonight, he’ll have false hope that other areas are equally groomed.

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