I accompanied my lovely man to the barber again recently.
I left him to go in and popped into the nearby chemist first. For cold sore cream. I explained that it wasn’t for me, because I don’t get cold sores, and the lady helpfully commented that I must be the ‘giver’. The cold sore giver.
I’m sure she’s wrong.. But… Full disclosure.
The fellow at the barber shop was delighted when I walked in. Immediately gesturing that he could sort out my fluffy face one time. I stopped him in his tracks with ‘the look’.
There’s not a lot of English spoken at my lovely man’s barber shop. Nor is there a lot of explanation as to the the happenings.
Darling… My lovely man called out in mild panic, why are they putting tar on my ears? And why have I got earbuds in my nose?
Oh, I said, they must be waxing your hairy bits, brace yourself.
Darling… He cried out again, what’s happening, why are they laying me back now?
Don’t worry, I said, I don’t think they are going to waterboard you.
We’ve been watching Ozark, so this reassurance seemed necessary.
What they were doing was threading his eyebrows. My lovely man will no longer be on the list to play Santa after all this exceptional grooming.
The fellow did look longingly at my fluffy face again, imagining the good work he could do with that thread. Another look was necessary.
Is this what they do with beavers my lovely man enquired loudly. I’m not sure I replied, but they’ll probably put it on their list of services now that you’ve raised the idea.
I felt that my lovely man’s yelps of pain and cussing were a bit unnecessary, but the results were exceptional.
So much so, they felt compelled to show everyone in the shop the hair removal.
Photo to accompany Google review.
My lovely man has a bit of an attitude about repeating the experience.