pica_pica

Aaaah, walkin on clouds.

Yesterday was a much needed pamper day for the pica.

After a very interesting evening on Saturday, which is too far away from me now for a proper update regarding it, I woke up somewhat hung over on Sunday and made some coffee.

I was feeling a little under the weather, and perhaps a bit down. Went and took a long shower and when I got out to dry off, I kinda looked at myself and realized that I was getting a bit too shaggy for my liking. Shaggy all over. Shaggy pica_picas surely suck. By the sea shore.

I know its supposed to be summer out there, even though I havent really done anything to honour that, but I know its supposed to be there. I came out into the living room, looked out the window here into the dark street and listened to the sound of the rain for few minutes. Somewhere in those moments I decided to give my old salon a call and see if I could book an appointment for a waxing. Yeah, I know. Freak, but I needed a polish and fresh start to this season. The chia pet I had become over those dark mossy winter months surely needed shorning.

Well, they couldnt get me in until Tuesday, on which day I will most likely be working until late, so I found myself googling places in the downtown core. It had to be today, or not for weeks.
I finally found a place in the wedgewood hotel that was open, and they had a slot for 4:00. YAY!

About 5 minutes after I hung up, the receptionist called me back and said if you feel like coming down early, feel free to enjoy our steam room.

And thats how it started.

3:40pm, I found myself walking past the concierge at the hotel, I passed the entrance to the restaurant, which was full of people enjoying their ridiculously expensive entres, and I walked through the luxurious lobby up towards the mirrored elevator doors with their filigree of gold and pressed the button for the second floor. In my head I was pretending I was new to this city, or perhaps here on business, and the company had put me up here.

The elevator doors basically open up straight into the entrance of the salon, and I was impressed with the whole zen thing they were trying to portray. It was immediately relaxing. Lots of earth tones, bamboo, plants it was already exactly what I needed and I had only just arrived.

The receptionist led me to the shower / steam room area and handed me a towel. I was a bit surprised to see that both of the rooms had nothing but large glass doors which flanked the hallway. Er I was sort of expecting the steam room to be a bit more private. Not exactly the hairy ape behind pressed glass thing.

Meh, she showed me how to turn on the steam, showed me the little lockers where I could put my clothing, smiled and left me there in the open as she went back to her desk. There was nobody else in the salon, thank god.
I got undressed in the shower area, wrapped the overly laundered crisp white towel around my waist, and walked down the hall into the steam room. It had already been hissing for a few minutes, and the heat inside the room was starting to climb.

Any concerns I originally had about being so exposed were pretty quickly resolved as the steam cloud in that little tiled enclosure quickly filled the room. I could barely see my own knees from where I sat, and the glass wall out to the hallway was barely discernable.

Course, within about 5 minutes of that, the Kung Pow Bucket or whatever the hell it was I drank at DV8 the night before quickly became obvious. Obviously a bad idea. Something about red bull, 5 ounces of crown royal, coke and I think some jaggermiester. Bad. Bad. I think I must have been dehydrated going in, and suddenly the heat and the steam made me realize very quickly how hungover I really was. Rivulets of something were running down off my forehead, my chest, my arms. Sweat? God, I hope not. Gross.

Yeah, I was sweating. But the heat felt great. Even with that crazy dehydration from the night before, the steam was so thick that it was almost a sort of sensory depravation. I couldnt see, the sounds were muffled in that small room, but I could still hear the far away drift of flute and drum that was being piped over the sound system. It was good. Very very good. I closed my eyes, leaned back against the cool tile of the wall, and felt that sting of heat inside my nostrils with my inhalations. Time then got strange, and I dont really know how long I was like that.

Eventually, maybe it was only 5 or 10 minutes, I opened my eyes and moved forward. I felt like I wanted some big Turkish guy in that room all of a sudden with a huge sponge or luffa, exfoliating in long and painful passes while his sister stood off to the side singing high and ethereal in those sad vocal flutters you can only get from Arabic sorrow. It was good, and I wasnt even aware of the fact that this room was flanked by that glass wall into the hallway.

I brought my watch up to my face close enough to see the hands, and realized I only had another 5 minutes before my appointment was slated. Damn.

I stood up, wobbly, off balance, and I opened the door to the hallway. It was cold and bright out there. I walked into the shower room, and rinsed off for a while in a cold stream. Shockingly cold, but I was supposed to be laying prone on my back in a few moments while some woman I have never met spreads hot wax onto parts of me I myself have rarely seen, and I certainly did not want to be still sweating. GROSS I find that the experience of getting waxed is enough of an almost unbearable vulnerability, and I always feel extremely awkward. Its certainly not something I would ever have been able to do like 10 years ago, and even now I have to fight a little bit with the voice inside me.

Nonetheless, I would never want to be in any way yucky for it, and that steam room as amazing as it was would not be a good preliminary if it caused me to be showing up on that table like that. blech. Thats not just me, I mean comon.

(If the end results of the process didnt make feel as good as they secretly do, I would never be able to repeat that procedure. But damn, if youve never tried it, its really worth a shot at the experience.)

Yeah I know too much information, but still I was in for a cool shower and it felt great.

Well holy pampering. I have SO found my new salon. Not only was the bed heated, the music that was playing was like some slow and quiet flute thing off in the distance with running water sounds, the blinds were closed tight, and there were about 15 candles burning in the room. It smelled of lavender. I was instantly relaxed about the whole thing.

I dont know what she did that was different than the other times I went to other salons, but this time totally didnt hurt at all. Ok, well a little bit when she decided to come in with the tweezers to grab the stragglers. (why the hell would a single hair hurt so much more than an entire group of hairs being ripped out?) but no, no pain.

And THEN: when she was finished, she went and got a cold wet towel to wrap the waxed area in, and said: ok, now I give you a foot massage, its nice after the pain

She grabbed a bottle of lavender scented oil, rubbed a pool of it into her hands to warm it up, and grabbed my right foot.

Oh my god dont grab my foot.
I HATE my feet, and they are ridiculously sensitive, but for some reason, I wasnt ticklish this one time. That was so strange, to be not ticklish, and wow it was good.
The music, the candles, the lavender, and a foot massage?

The foot massage encompassed my whole lower leg, up to my knee and I was in absolute bliss.
It felt SO good,

But then something weird happened.

you want for me to wax this? she asks.

Shes kinda tugging on my right big toe.

Ok, now wait a minute.
Yeah, I have like 12 hairs that have happily lived on my right big toe, and theyve lived there for a very long time. Why the hell would she be offering to wax my toes? Is that weird?

Next thing, shes pulling lightly on the few hairs that are on the top of my foot.
and this?

I dont even know what I was thinking, but I heard the words come out of my mouth before I even thought about it.

sure
I said.

So, she waxed my feet.

Ok, am I a fuckin hobbit or what? Dunno.
I gotta tell you though, getting the tops of your feet waxed and then massaged deeply with lavender scented oil is a new pleasure I have never expected to talk about.

What the hell is going on with my life where THAT is a new update for SG?

Hmmph, none-the-less, I am walkin on clouds, with fresh and hairless feet.