Wednesday, July 13, 2011

A fiery Irish sunset

As holiday time approaches it is time to do all those little "jobs" that need attending waxing. Which reminds me of my all-time favourite girlie story. It doesn't involve me personally but rather a friend of mine whom I shall call Mary*
* not her real name. I have changed it in order to protect her dignity, or rather whatever is left of it.
We weren't in Abu Dhabi that long, but still long enough to have to go to a salon and get the dreaded waxing done. Mary headed off to one that had been recommended to us.
The background to this story is that all the salons in Abu Dhabi were run by beautiful girls from the Phillipines, who were used to dealing with Arabic women, both groups of women having very black hair. Mary was a sterotypical Irish cailín with flaming red hair. As she pointed out to us when retelling this story
"All my damn body hair is this colour!"
As we all well know, waxing is not an overly pleasant experience. It's something you get through by talking two Neurophen tablets about half an hour beforehand, you go in and lie down, close your eyes and hope for it to be over as soon as possible, which is what Mary did.
She was lying down on the bed and she heard her attendant come in. Mary smiled a "hello" at her and then closed her eyes to await the inevitable. But her eyes shot open when she heard a gasp, followed by an exclaimation of
 "Oh Madam. It is so lovely. I have never seen one so beautiful!"
Mary bolted upright on the bed, thinking
"Noooo. I misheard what she said. She can't really be commenting on my "Lady Garden".
Oh but she was!
In face she was so in awe of this rare sight she called to her colleagues
"Blossom, Mia etc Come here quick and see."
and before she knew what was happening there were six women around her, oohing and ahhing and gushing
"Oh Madam it is like fire."
"No, I think it is like sunset."
"You must be so proud of it"
Pride is not what Mary was feeling at that moment and as for the compliments, she would have much rather they came from a man!
Eventually the onlookers left and her attendant set about her task. She applied the wax and a strip, ripped it off and then paraded it in front of Mary's face, announcing
"See Madam the beautiful colour"
"I know. I've seen it before.Get it away please."
Later on that night she recounted the ordeal to us over a medicinal bottle of wine. Us being supportive friends, were in a hoop laughing, tears streaming down our faces. Mary kept saying things like
"Stop it girls. It wasn't funny"
Not funny! This will never not be funny, even ten years later!
But we nearly went too far when we told Mary
"You do realise that the next time you go to that salon that wax strip will be framed and hanging on the wall in reception, under the title
"A fiery Irish Sunset"
She never went back to find out!

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