Beauty is Pain

Yes, it's true, I get my brows waxed. What? I have to, otherwise it looks like I'm wearing the Grouch Marx glasses, without the glasses or the large nose or Peter Gallagher's unfortunate looking twin sister... I digress. So I have found a very skilled waxer in the Boston area close to work and not too expensive. The problem? Well, you see, she's kind of mean. I go in with furry brows and come out with a bruised ego. My first encounter with her, she yelled at me for not drinking enough water and having dry skin. Then she yelled at me to make sure I wouldn't touch her beautiful job. Last time she yelled at me for waiting too long in bettween appointments. The meeting went something like this.

Waxer: (In some foreign accent, which I don't know the origins of) Have you been to me before?
Me: Yes...
Waxer: When was the last time you saw me?
Me: Uh... about two and a half months ago.
Waxer: Ok, makes sense.
Me: ?!
Waxer: That was too long. One and a half months! One and a half months!

This phrase was repeated throughout the visit along with "It wouldn't hurt so much if you came in more often." Man she's mean, but she does great work.