Redefining “Low” Maintenance (For Ladies Only)

In my teens and twenties I maintained a low maintenance beauty regimen.  Back then I could party all night, hop in the shower and work all day, without my face telling the tale.  My hair was wash and go, and makeup was just eyeliner, lip gloss and mascara.  Admittedly I am a long way from the girl I used to be:  times change, I’ve changed and “maintenance” is defined differently in your forties, or so I am learning.  I find myself having to ramp up my maintenance just in order to maintain.  I need a little help.

My hair has changed, it doesn’t have the body and volume that it used to.  After years of applying relaxing my hair doesn’t remember how to bounce or behave.  Now on top of those 6 week hair appointments, I have double up so that I can squeeze in a little color to mask the grays.

As if that weren’t bad enough…  I went into the salon recently, just a quick stop to get my eyebrows waxed.  I say to the technician standing two stations away, “Eyebrow wax?”  She replies with a pointed stare at my upper lip, and questions back “Just your eyebrows?”  Nice.  Suffice to say, I now get my eyebrows and my lip waxed. 

Which brings me to my latest humiliation.

Celebrating my recent forty-something birthday, I decided to treat myself to a few salon services.  After spending years contorting myself into all kinds of awkward poses to shave my legs in the shower, and many summer Saturday afternoons enduring the aroma of hair depilatories so that I could wear short-shorts, I thought it was time to try something new.  I made an appointment for a full leg and bikini wax.  The epitome of high maintenance, I think.

Mindful of the fact that it was my first time, I thought carefully about which salon to bestow the honor.  It might have been nice to go to a fancy spa in Manhattan to get it done, but I didn’t want to end up with staff who might be unfamiliar with the thick and curly hair I wanted removed.  I didn’t want Inga from Sweden at the fancy spa talking about me, or worse yet, running screaming from the room.  So I went to a local salon a few towns away from home.

Upon arriving at the salon, I was shown into a private room, and instructed to disrobe – shoes, socks, pants.  “Leave the panties,” Jean my Korean technician said.  That gave me a momentary sigh of relief.  I tell her it’s my birthday.  “Oh really?  Happy Birthday”, says Jean smiling.  It’s nice to take care of yourself, treat yourself on your birthday”.  “Yes,” I said.  She walks out and closes the door.
Once I’m undressed, she returns.  Jean surveys my legs and sensing my uneasiness, she assured me it would be ok.  Using strips measuring maybe 10 inches long and 4 inches wide, she started at my ankles she ripped her way up my calves to my thighs.  I was prepared for the pain - being accustomed to eyebrow (and now lip) waxing.  I was just thinking “this isn’t so bad.  I’ll get this done again, no problem.” 

Then came a knock at the door.   In her lilting accent Jean says “Come in” and in walks Maritza.    “Hello” she says.  I answer back “Hi”. 

Jean has been doing a good job but Maritza is obviously the main leg and bikini waxer.  She surveys my legs, calves already done, and she helps Jean complete the job.  What follows is a symphony of rip, rip, rip, like synchronized Velcro ripping over and over and over.  Now, it’s bikini time. 
Ok, I’m not modest, but hello, this is my BIKINI area.  Once again I find myself contorting into awkward poses, but this time I’m not alone in my shower. 

Now I’m holding my breath and the rip, rip, rip continues, but now each rip is followed by my own little involuntary whimper. “Almost over”, I’m saying to myself.   To make conversation, or perhaps to keep me from jumping off the table, Jean shares with Maritza that it’s my birthday AND that it’s my first wax.  Maritza says with smile, “Next time," she advises, "get a mani and pedi or a facial for your birthday.  Pamper yourself – not a wax.” She says sympathetically.  Then she says “turn over”.  Whoa.  This is a humbling experience. 

Finally the rip, rip, rip symphony is over, and as I put my jeans back on, my ultra sensitive skin feels every stitch of the fabric. 

3 weeks later, my skin is still pretty smooth and the "triangle" is still in place.  Was it worth it?  Will I do it again?  Yes, probably… but only after my next mani and pedi and a good bottle of wine.