Waxing Nostalgic

I'm trying to find the perfect esthetician here in Victoria. And by perfect, I don't mean impeccably groomed, beautiful, or flawlessly put together; in fact, I'd prefer it if he or (hopefully) she wasn't.

It's a tricky thing, finding somebody 'just-so' to wax your legs for you. I know (or at least I assume) that the job isn't an esthetician's favourite task-- they'd probably prefer the facials and the manicures over ripping hair out of another person's follicles-- and this notion alone makes me so anxious about finding somebody I can trust to do it. Since I only ever go to a spa to have my legs waxed, I have to know that the person I'm going to can like and/or understand me enough to wax graciously, without hating my guts or groaning "Dana L.?!-- not again!! I told you not to book her with me anymore!" when they see my name on their list of the day's appointments.

I had the perfect esthetician back in Calgary. She was a she, which was a must in my books, and she was ordinary-looking enough to make me feel at ease, which is pretty difficult to do, especially considering that all of our interactions consisted of me lying just about half naked on a glorified operating table! She was professional and neat, but not without flaws. It was important for me to know she was a regular human female, with all or at least most of the concerns that I have as another regular human female, because I had (horribly agonizing!) experiences before being waxed by the living equivalent of Barbie-- except she was a brunette. Never again will I subject my poor follicles to the demonic rips of a person who was likely born without a single hair anywhere on her body, except of course in her flowing dark locks.

My idea of the perfect esthetician goes something like this:

1. Female! Somebody I can relate to on a subliminal level at the very least, and somebody that won't freak Marty (or me!) out every time I go for a session.

2. Experienced! It's more than a little unnerving to be lying very vulnerably on the table and then to be told that they just finished esthetic school/ haven't had much practice doing waxes/ normally are in charge of the facials/ want to be something else entirely when they grow up.

3. Ordinary! I'm talking about more than just ordinary looking-- I'm also talking about 'ordinary' in the sense of having ordinary womanly experiences (menstrual cramps! the occasional ingrown hair!). Superhumans need not apply.

4. Professional and compassionate! One time I was very preoccupied during my waxing appointment and somehow forgot (I know!!!!) to put on those paper underwear things. It wasn't until I felt a gentle breeze in a not-so-public spot that I came to the embarrassing (more like horrifying and damning) realization that I was, in fact, nude from the waist down in front of somebody who had clearly given me that pair of paper underwear with the expectation that I would actually put them on! When I said to her in the smallest of all voices, 'I think I accidentally forgot to put on the underwear', she graciously took her leave for a minute and came back all calm, like nothing had happened. Of course, we laughed about it for a good 10 minutes once she was back inside the room, but at least she was laughing with me, and not completely at me. (Or so I like to think!) That's what I mean when I say professional and compassionate.

If anybody knows somebody who meets the above criteria in the Victoria area, please let me know! Until then, I'll just have to suffer with my self-inflicted waxing... and for anybody who's ever waxed before, you know that it's not fun to begin with, but it's even worse when you're doing it to yourself!!