I get my face threaded at least once a week. If I didn’t, I would grow a beard – not a man beard, but the beard of a 16-year-old boy, which is still not so attractive for a 29-year-old woman.
Tonight I had to get a last-minute threading before my four day trip out of town, so I waited the 30 minutes necessary to get my booty in the chair and de-hair. I was given a new girl…
First thing I told her I needed to get my chin done and she looked at me and said with a shit-eating grin, “Just one chin? Hehe” I politely chuckled back. Then she said in broken English that she speaks Arabic – “50/50 English.” I don’t think she was purposely offending me. I probably said some crazy stuff as well, when I was learning Spanish.
The thread-er then proceeded to powder me up. I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone powder me before threading, but this was her special treatment. My dear friend powdered me up so well that it went up my nose, powder was all over my lips and in my mouth, to later be crunch between my teeth.
I could tell she was still learning the technique, because threading doesn’t generally rub all of the skin off my face. With every passing of that thread, my facial epidermis grew thinner and thinner. I continually repeated in my head ”please let her be finished, please let her be done,” but no, she was determined to get it all. By the time, she was through, I was sure she had drawn blood. I was so thankful for the soothing rosewater that would soon hit my skin.
She had me lay back in the chair and gruffly applied the rosewater to my burning skin. Ahhhh – even the course application was fine – that stuff is amazing! Right as I was about to get up and pay she slapped her latex-clad hands against my face, cupping my chin as she began to rub that oh so sensitive skin that the rosewater had so recently cured. She rubbed and rubbed and “massaged” the shit out of my face until I just about cried. Maybe the wincing caused her to stop , but whatever it was, she finally stopped. She looked at me with that shit-eating grin and said “good?” I couldn’t say anything negative, I tipped her almost double what I should have and left with the image of her proud face in my mind. Happy Thanksgiving little broken-English newbie. I hope to never sit in your chair again.