The crucial moment of the haircut is not the haircut at all, but the removal of the hair inside my ears--such are the worries of men of my advancing years. But, I had already faced the process of singeing, where my barber took fire and set my ears on fire as a method of removing that unsightly and pesky ear hair.
This time when he asked me, "Ears?" Ahhh, I was ready and gave him my most confident and self-assured, "Yes!" I should have known something was wrong, when he asked a second question, "Nose?"
Let me provide the gentle reader with some words of wisdom. When someone asks you a yes/no question, that you are not certain what the answer should be, perhaps "No" is the better default answer than the yes I gave my barber. I hadn't really thought it through, that indeed, I was agreeing that my nostrils should also be set on fire.
I closed my eyes as tightly as when I was a child watching a scary movie, anticipating a frightening scene about to take place. But, I figured, that I had already survived my prior meeting with fire, I would able to handle flame inside my nose.
I waited, but nothing happened. No blazing heat against my skin.
I opened my eyes, just in time to witness my barber inserting a giant, 20cm cotton swab inside my nose. Instead of fire, I felt a blob of hot goo swirled around my nostrils. Then another swab inside my other nostril. Then the same swabs inserted inside both my ears. I took a quick glimpse into the giant barbershop mirror--I appeared to be the victim of some fiendish outer-space alien who had inserted probes inside me to determine if I was some form of intelligent life.
As I gazed at my strange new reflection, that is when the sinking feeling filled me that I was about to face a fate much worse than fire. It was hot wax that had been shoved inside me. "Oh no, OH NO!" I shouted silently to myself. I had heard stories from many women I have known, complaining about the pain of waxing the hair off their legs. But, no one that I had ever known, had ever been insane enough to think it a great idea to wax their nostrils and their ears. Except my sadistic barber.
It was like the moment I was I riding a car, that I knew was about to crash. There is nothing one can do, except brace for the pain.
Rip! The wax from the first nostril was torn abruptly from the skin. Pain, yes, but not unendurable. Rip. Other nostril. I really must buy myself one of those little battery-powered nose-hair trimmers, I thought to myself. Rip. First ear. Skin inside one's ear might be slightly more sensitive than that inside one's nose, I determined at that moment. Rip. That wasn't even as bad as a bee sting, I concluded, my best philosophical effort at self-consolation.
I leaned back in the barber chair, savoring the relief one feels when pain subsides. That's when I felt the blast of heat against my ear. "Wait a second," I shouted silently to myself again. "That's not fair. I get both the wax AND the fire." More proof there is no justice in the world.
After my second ear was singed, I took a giant sigh of relief knowing that my ordeal was finished and my visit to the barber was almost done. That's when he rubbed his hands together with some very pleasant-smelling lotion to spread across my ears and face to provide some comfort to my distressed skin. Little did I know that he had chosen Eau de Stinging Nettle as the lotion of choice for the day. Burning worse than the hot wax torn from my nostrils or fire torched across my ears, this infernal lotion had come from Satan's barbershop, where the condemned receive their daily grooming.
I left the barbershop thoroughly defeated, yet without a follicle of hair left in any inappropriate orifice. I wondered what our hairy ancestors of 50,000 years ago looked like with their ears and noses sprouting inappropriate hair like lush tufts of prairie grass. They didn't care; they were just trying not to starve or be eaten by wild animals. It is a testament to evolution and our magnificently advanced civilization that instead of evading dangerous beasts, we now enjoy the privilege of spending weekend afternoons having gobs of wax ripped from inside our noses.
No comments:
Post a Comment