Summer Tune-up

    OH, the crying, wailing, and gnashing of teeth that ensued as I stood in front of the mirror, clad in my gray (formally white) bra and large granny panties.  Thank God I was behind closed doors, with the shades down. It was time to get my body “detailed” for summer, and there was much “detailing” to do.

   Starting at the top, I knew the two-inch gray skunk roots had to go.  Off to Carol, the coloring queen at the local salon.  Carol covered my hair in dark brown dye.  She also painted some on my gray eyebrows and waltzed off as her magic potions took effect.  I glanced up after five minutes and who should I see looking back at me but former Soviet leader Leonid Brezhnev.  I was sporting a thick dark uni-brow and jowls like deputy dog!  I was so shocked I nearly dropped my devil dog. Luckily all turned out well; the devil dog was safe.

    The only gray hairs left were those sprouting off my chin and upper lip.  My sister-in-law informed me that waxing was not good for thin postmenopausal skin. (Figures, the only thin thing on me.) She told me about threading - a painless facial hair removal procedure.  Threads are gently rolled over the offending hair and magically whisked away.

    I decided to go to a threading kiosk located in the center of the mall. I had nothing to lose but my whiskers.  The operator stands above you while she “threads” the offending hair away. Since I am a tad over six feet tall, I had to scootch down in my chair.  When the right height was established, I was lying on my back with feet propped up on the counter. The threading began. My sister in-law, who shall hence-forth be known as the big fat liar, glossed over the pain factor. The last time I was in that much pain, and position, they gave me an epidural. Unfortunately, my HMO does not cover anesthesia for hair removal, a gross oversight in my humble opinion.  According to the crowd of on-lookers, I shook like a leaf, and had tears running down my face. One eyewitness swore I was foaming at the mouth.  Three hours later (it had been closer to five minutes) I was the proud owner of a face that looked as if it had been attacked by killer bees, but oh so silky smooth.

  Tomorrow’s agenda will find me at my local weight loss group, the “Middle Age Muffin Tops”, where I fear I will hear: “Hey, weren’t you the crazy lady I saw yesterday getting your mustache threaded?”  Some things are better left behind closed doors.