Waxing Nostalgic

No one comments. No one really reads this blog. Unless if you count, my spell checking as a read through. But still, sometimes my brothers might wander on here for pity or familiar prose... so I cant expand on this topic. But, come the hell on- who need their waxing Lady's love.

She pours it on me. I wish she was that generous with the wax. She stops mid way through my legs, and I'm biting my lower lip, and she hugs me. When she releases me I can almost swear she has my hairs on her white coat. And I'm not hairy- so that's saying something about the fierceness of her bear hug.

She really loves me. I start to think about how creepy her affection is, but then I just bask in it. Someone, for no particular reason, thinks I'm loveable. And she knows me NOW. With loose skins and stretch marks and angry eyes. So, I take her love and her awkward hugs and keep them for when I feel like the world is full of hate and I'm surrounded by the 'only if" kinda love.

My waxing lady throws in the eyebrow wax for free. It's not that exciting. I think I have seven stray hairs there. All blond. She tells me in her accented way "No tell, I just say Bikini and leg." I'm shocked. She can't do that. She doesn't own the salon and besides I have to go pay at the front desk. She can't say bikini and leg and there I am with puffy red eyes.

I insist I can afford the 10 extra bucks and she seems deflated that I won't accept her kindness. One more hug and all seems to be forgiven. Maybe I'm just cuddly. She ends up escorting me to the mall entrance, where we part with- you guessed it- a hug.

I have a feeling I'm going to go back to the nice Asian lady who is quick, pain full and hug free. I know what to do with that. Free love is the thing that confuses me.