Life has a way of hitting the Reset button, and I must admit that I appreciate that. And, honestly, this Reset is too good not to share.
One might perceive that I am all Doom and Gloom what with writing a blog like this, but that is far from the truth (In fact, I just spent ten minutes dancing to K-Pop in my bedroom as a study break. I highly recommend BTS’s “Illegal”).
Anyway, after the visit to the Respondent’s attorney this morning to sign the settlement agreement, I went to visit my lovely esthetician for some *ahem* personal waxing. I just wanted to feel like a normal human being again, and, besides, I already had the appointment scheduled. I felt it was time to get my focus back. There’s nothing like having hair ripped out of sensitive body parts to do just that.
Brazilian waxing is an odd experience. I won’t lie. I am by nature a very modest person. I hated labor and delivery for this very reason. All those people sauntering in and out of the room while your body is on full display? I never grew accustomed to it. I could say it’s my disposition combined with being raised by stoic Scandinavians in a very gender-biased Southern culture. The advice I was given for almost all contexts of life was, “Remember to keep your knees together, dear.” Consequently, the fact that I can even lie on a table in a Figure 4 position and tolerate hot wax being poured and torn off my lady parts is an authentic victory for me. I feel empowered and ultra-hygienic when I leave my esthetician’s house. It’s one of those luxuries that I don’t take for granted.
So, there I was today, lying on her table, recounting the past month’s events as she loudly empathized with me. She’s like my Jewish auntie: “Oy, no! Did he really? I can’t believe it! What did you doooooo?” ::rip::
As I waited for her to finish, I looked up at the ceiling. It was then that I saw it. A spider. Before I could say anything, he descended directly onto my chest. I managed to yell out, “SPIDER!”
My esthetician shrieked and started hitting me in an attempt to kill the spider. I was stuck on the table. There was wax on me, and, you know, I had no pants on! Where was I going to go? I couldn’t offer any assistance at all.
“Did you get it? Did you get it?” I asked, feeling helpless.
“No…no….not yet…no,” she quickly answered.
More hitting. Then shoving. It crawled on my arm. I felt it. I screamed. Then, it crawled under me. She shoved me to the side of the table.
“Is it in my hair?” I asked beginning to panic. I am somewhat terrified of spiders.
“I got it!” she exclaimed.
For a moment, we were silent and wide-eyed, and then we started laughing almost hysterically. I’m not sure why. I think that she is afraid of spiders, too, and we were experiencing a massive dump of stress hormones. I felt ridiculously vulnerable lying almost buck ass naked on her table while a spider crawled on me, and she had to kill an insect she feared.
I gave her an extra big tip and left her house feeling a little more like myself than when I arrived. So, I’m hitting the books, studying for my first midterm tomorrow, and getting on with things spiders and settlement agreements be damned.
And thank you for sharing the journey with me. I have appreciated that more than I can adequately say.
At least the spider didn’t crawl on your freshly waxed lady bits!
OMG…could you imagine? Or if it got stuck in the wax? ::shudder::