|Image adapted from Sérgio (Savaman) Savarese via Wikimedia Commons|
I was a beauty therapist and makeup artist in my time PT (pre-Tricky). After studying feminism at uni the decision to become someone who faffs about with skincare and makeup raised a few soon to be perfectly coiffed eyebrows.
Despite my lecturers almost having heart attacks on my transition to the beauty world, I never saw what I did as anti-feminist. Every day in my job I made women feel better about the skin they were in. I might not have agreed with everything they chose to do, but telling them they can't wax off every single hair on their whole body because I thought it made them look prepubescent isn't very feminist either. Each to their own and all that jazz. Or all that vajazzle as the case may be.
Making women feel beautiful was actually pretty awesome. I was good at eyebrow shaping and given virgin eyebrows could make you look like you'd had an eye lift with a bit of wax and some perfectly aligned tweezers. I was also good at speedy brazillians but that's a different and rather more painful story.
There were definitely downsides to the job though:
- Forgetting client names/faces. If you spend 90% of the time with your client looking at their vag, it's bound to happen. I'd usher them in to the room, wracking my brain about who it was, come back, remove the towel and BINGO... "So, Janet, how'd your date with Stewart go?". I never forget a vagina.
- Whiffy clients. Ladies, please, if you've been at work all day and popped in for a quick wax on the way home, you're not at your freshest. It's not hard to use the freshening wipes provided. You're paying for them after all.
- Manky clients. Completely different to the whiffy clients because these ones just filthy all over. I once had a young girl come in for a massage and the grime around her neck made me want to puke. When she piped up with "if you see any ticks just flick them off, I've just come back from camping", a little bit of my soul died.
- Cranky latecomers. I get it, shit happens and you're late. But when you arrive 20 minutes late for a 30 minute appointment then yell at me when I tell you we have to downgrade your treatment? Then I get shitty and the urge to not be so gentle with the wax on your labia. Seriously gals, don't piss off your waxer.
- Unrealistic expectations. Having a client request a makeup style that you know will look horrible and despite trying to persuade them they'll look shit unless you tone it down, they are adamant they want the catwalk look. So you do it... and they hate it... and you have to take it off and re-do it all, putting you behind schedule. The urge to scream "I FUCKING TOLD YOU SO" is rather strong.
- Feet. Having to touch someone's feet when you have podophobia brings on cold sweats and panic attacks. I went to therapy to help with my issues and I could focus and get through it but I would have to disinfect my hands afterwards. With bleach. I once did a pedicure on a woman who only had nine toes as a result of an "accident" involving her brother and a sharp axe.
- Assumptions. People generally assumed that I was a Beauty Therapist because I was too stupid to do anything else. They always I assumed I was a high school drop out. I was a uni drop out, GET IT RIGHT! It was with these folk that I'd always use the big words and I'll never forgetting pulling the dihydrogen monoxide joke on one of those
On a side note, if you have a weak constitution, turn on SafeSearch when you *ahem* search for images of a facial.
What do you hate about your job?