Comic Relief

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.

Shalom, MJ

 

 

 

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