"Teacher Appreciation Week 2010" will go down in the sands of time as the year that I, Cheeseboy, waxed painful.
The theme this year for Teacher Appreciation Week was "Celebratory Salon" or "Salon-A-Thon" or "Salon-E-Sandwich". As is often the case, I forget the technical name for it.
Sign up sheets went up on Tuesday in the teacher's lounge and I was given three choices: arm massage, foot massage or eyebrow wax. (There may have also been an option of "arm massage... by foot", but that sounded gross and I am not that desperate for physical touch.)
I bet you can't guess which option I chose. I'll give you three guesses. There are only three options, so unless you are a contestant on 'Celebrity Jeopardy', you are bound to get the right answer eventually.
Did you take your first guess? I'm sorry, that is incorrect.
The answer is quite obvious, my blogger buddies - being that I am a gorilla of Jewish decent with an overactive hair hormone problem, I chose the eyebrow wax.
I was the only man in the school music/day spa room that day and because of this, I sat proudly. The young spa treatment ladies gathered round me and asked what grade I teach. I responded with "first" and all six of them, as if on cue, let out a collective, "ahhh".
It's rare, but occasionally being a male first grade teacher can be pretty darned magnificent.
By now, a few of my female colleagues had gathered round me to watch as I would have my facial hair torn out by the roots. I could see them cringe a little as each dabble of hot wax on my brow was ripped off.
Surprisingly, my pain was very minimal. It was almost as if my uni-brow had been patiently waiting all these many years to be man-groomed in such a way. The treatment took less than 5 minutes and I had been allotted 15.
"Would you like anything else done?" asked the fetching, brunette with the short hair.
"What do you got?" I replied, feeling rather arrogant about my ability to take pain at the time.
She responded, "Something that is rather popular with men is a nose hair waxing."
I was intrigued.
The other teachers were more intrigued.
Never one to back down from a challenge, I triumphantly balked, "LET'S DO THIS!"
I'd like to say that the other teachers yelled and applauded, but they just stood with stunned but interested looks on their faces.
The wax felt warm and soothing in the inside of my nostril. The stick did not.
- 30 seconds passed and the wax hardened. -
Spunky spa lady returned and asked if I was ready. I nodded and clenched my fists.
I told Miss Waxy that I was having some very bad visions of the scene in "The 40-Year-Old Virgin". Spunky spa diva assured me that the reason that he was in so much pain in that movie is because the waxing was done incorrectly.
That did not make me feel better. Not even a little.
Before I could even respond, she yanked down on the stick as hard as she could.
Out popped a hair mass the size of a hairball. I yelped a little.
The women around me...
I am not positive, but I am pretty sure one of the women said, "Abe, did you have a cat up your nose?"
Spazzy spa gal returned and said with a smirky smile...
"That's one. You ready for the other?"
With tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat, I asked...
"Is it too late to get that arm massage by foot?"