Waxing For A Living

It’s probably the only reason I hated being an esthetician. I mean, who wants to wax women’s crotches all day? Sorry to be so vulgar, but I think I had a moment when a pregnant woman walked into my room and asked for a bikini wax. Isn’t there a rule against to-be-moms from getting waxed after six months or so? Every time I prepared myself to rip the strip of wax from that woman’s bikini area, I was filled with anxiety: what if I accidentally punch her belly? I drew the line when the spa I was working at sent in a male for a bikini wax. Come on guys. Who does that? Must be a California thing. I was a licensed Esthetician in the sunny state for several years before my life took a bizarre twist and I began working in news. Well, not that bizarre. Back to my story about waxing a man. He walked in, and I said “I’ll be right back.” I sent into another esthetician. Done and done. Maybe I didn’t love every minute of that profession, but I loved most of them.

I’m convinced I pursued that career because I wanted to cure my own skin: ACNE! Can anyone relate? I have still have a deep rooted passion for all things skin care. I swear by my esthetician here in Utah. I’m still an esthetician at heart and recommend a mini-facial at the minimum every six weeks. Keeps your skin in check. When it’s not on my budget, and believe me sometimes I cancel because of affordability, I have some at-home remedies if you’re interested.

Next to still being obsessed with skincare (for obvious reasons aka TV news), I love all things pretty. Especially lip gloss. Makeup in general. Some girls grew up playing sports. My Mother put me in ballet and tap dance classes. I had a lot of barbies, and big Barbie heads. I would cut their hair and put makeup on them too. Sometimes I would experiment on my own face when my Dad wasn’t around. He was a strict Assyrian father in those days. I wore bright pink (think hot pink) lipstick to the dinner table at the age of 5 (yes, this memory is engrained) and he was so angry. I’m convinced it’s why I can’t let go of my undying love for PINK LIPSTICK. Anyone notice? My Dad still denies this memory.

After all things pretty, I went through this strange stage during my teenage years. You know, back when everyone listened to Nirvana. Teenage Angst at its finest. Instead of pink lipstick it was black lipstick. And black eyeliner. Still haven’t let go of that habit. Must be a Middle Eastern thing too – the women in our culture go for sultry dark rimmed eyes. You can tell us or recommend that we cut back on the makeup and the eyeliner all you want and BELIEVE ME, I have tried. It’s just not me. You see, I can’t conform to anyone’s ideals and I truly believe being yourself is liberating. Trying to please everyone or being concerned with whether or not everyone likes you, loves you (except those closest to you) is destructive and just simply isn’t authentic. Be yourself is my motto.

So “ME” is a lot of things. I am multi-faceted. Not just a journalist. I call myself a journalista because it adds flare and personality. I try my hardest not to compare myself to other women, but rather be inspired by them.

And on that note, many things interest me. The news, politics, makeup, skincare …fitness, health (blogs on those topics later) and LOVE. I’m just not that into waxing anymore. To the pregnant woman whom I waxed 10 years ago: I hope I did a decent job.