"I love classic beauty. It's an idea of beauty with no standards." - Karl Lagerfeld
A few weeks ago, I stopped in at a local beauty salon to get my eyebrows threaded. I'm always impressed with how perfect my eyebrows look after they've been threaded, so I'll get it done every year or so.
There was a woman seated in the back of the salon, waiting patiently for some beautiful henna work to dry, while her "artist" furiously attacked the eyebrows of a small girl seated in one of the two available seats in the front. I could actually see the hairs flying off the thread. There was one other woman who aside from greeting new customers with a cursory nod (and a sad looking thread hanging from her mouth), seemed intent on the task of removing any and all facial hair from the woman reclined in front of her.
Now, I'm not the most social of creatures, but I do enjoy observing what's going on around me. Some people might just consider me creepy. Potato, potato. Personally, I like to take in what's going on around me. On occasion, I'll pick up my phone and immerse myself in the online world, but usually I find what's going on around me far more interesting than any dramatic conversation on the net.
But, this was one of those days where I wish I wasn't paying attention.
There were two girls in there that day. One was already under the thread beside her mom, and the other was waiting beside a middle aged woman on the seats beside me. I think maybe five minutes passed, and soon the mom and daughter were finished. The woman stood up, and told the esthetician to "take it all off", while gesturing broadly at her face. The girl, however, seemed immediately nervous and just shook her head. Her mom instantly got huffy, saying something about not being a baby and how it doesn't hurt that much. Why can't you be more like your sister? Yeah, that was thrown out there. Then, to add insult to injury, this stranger got involved, and started to say how her daughter was frightened at first too, but then she finally went through with it when she was 12.
Yeah, 12. She said it like she was an old maid.
The little girl burst into tears, sobbing violently beside me. I tried valiantly to assume detachment and disinterest, to lessen the embarrassment this poor girl was feeling. It took everything in me to not get involved in what was going on. By the end of her little rant, I was grinding my teeth (not good, considering I was just at the dentist). However, her mom eventually relented, but only after making it abundantly clear that she was disappointed in her daughters lack of interest in female bonding time. I was relieved when she was finally gone, and I could unclench my teeth.
I'm sorry, but the first time I ever had my eyebrows threaded, I was somewhere in the neighbourhood of 20. It hurt. A lot. I mean, how could it not? Someone is tearing hair out of your face, right next to your eyeballs! I'm lucky if my eyes aren't watering when I'm done.
Shaming your child into adhering to your standards of beauty is just sad. But, maybe I'm the wrong person to comment on this kind of stuff, considering I was raised by a man who didn't understand female social conventions at all. I think my leg hair was bordering on yeti, by the time I convinced him to buy me a razor. But that's it, right? I convinced him that I was ready. I wanted to shave my legs. It was up to me to define my own standards of beauty and style.
Thanks for being awesome, dad.
