To Wax or Not to Wax: It's Not a Question.

Not according to the gals who run the Nails 4U shop down the street. I go in there to get an eyebrow tune-up and they go nuts on me.

I've seen this trend at all these kinds of manicure-meets-facial-waxing-parlours. If you're entertaining the idea, "Should I wax?" The answer is obvious: YOU MUST WAX!

Case in point: a few days before my 2003 wedding, my attendants converged on Portland and my Mom sent us all to Nails 4U in the Esplanade Plaza next to the Target, where manis and pedis ensued. Once the ladies found out my wedding was imminent, they insisted on waxing my eyebrows. (I'm not making this up, this is verbatim how the conversation went).

"We do it for your special day," they insisted.

"Oh, thank you. That's nice. But I already took care of my brows myself. Thanks though." I nodded at them, smiling like an idiot.

"No, we do it for your special day. Favor. We charge zero!" They wagged their fingers at me, smiling mischievously.

"Well, that's very nice of you..." I began to say, intending to turn them politely down again. After all, I  had just taken the tweezers to my brow ridge the day before. But that's where it went wrong. I hesitated, and in that instant of weakness, they seized the upper hand. Next thing I know, I'd been pushed back into a reclining chair and three of them went for my face at once. One on each of my eyes and the third attacking my upper lip and chin. I froze--they might not be able to see me if I don't move, and I stood a chance at orchestrating an escape.

With a quick flick of the wrist, they applied and ripped the wax off of my skin, and then showed the fuzzy strip to me, admonishing, "Why you think you not need wax!?"

Somehow, feeling ashamed, I mumbled, "I...I'm sorry...I didn't know." And the facial frenzy continued. When they finally released me, beaming at my newly uncovered baby-soft flesh, I took a moment to appreciate the small pile of accumulated wax strips on the table, thinking, Seriously? What just happened? Had I unwittingly sported a goatee my whole life? And no one had told me until now? Ick.

The same kind of thing happened today when I went for a tune up. While I was subjected to just one attendant this morning, I was nonetheless attacked viciously. And I thought I'd been doing such a good job! 20 minutes later, with most of the front of my head stinging, I walked out, feeling the fresh breeze on my (apparently) previously woolly countenance. Yowza.

At least it only cost me $20.