Bull Shit Tastes Best When Coated With Sugar

aes·the·ti·cian

ˌesTHəˈtiSHən/

noun

noun: esthetician

1. 1.

   a person who is knowledgeable about the nature and appreciation of beauty, especially in art.
2. 2.

   a beautician.

   
   

"I love my Esthetician, she gives amazing facials. My Esthetician does the full Sphynx including ass hairs, I love it. Who is your Esthetician, your make-up is beautiful."

Yup, you read that quote right. We wax ass hairs. I know, I know... you are thinking: "What the hell kind of normal human would willingly get face to face with the notorious pink starfish??" Your beautiful, hard working esthetician, thats who. We get knuckle deep in face creams, boiling hot wax, and stinky pedicure water (Ya, that shits gross) all for you... But hey, all in a days work! Right? We love our job, we honestly do. We wouldnt change it for the world.  Unless we won the lottery...in that case PEACE BITCHES!!!!

Let me paint a picture for you... (referencing the esthetician definition, ya'll know I know my shit about art) Let the picture painting commence: You book your appointment for your nails, we gladly book you in our already packed tight schedule.  You know this already though... you've struggled to get your appointment in last minute the last ten appointments!!! But.... I digress. We book you in, using our most polite phone voice:

"Absolutely doll! Ill get you in at noon tomorrow!" 

...No problem, I didn't want to eat lunch this week anyway. I live to book your nail appointment over my lunch. Because you know, you have a "thing" this weekend! Yeah, I get it... I have a "thing" too... ITS CALLED ANOREXIA!!!!! I'm fucking starving over here. *I put down the phone* My tummy growls with my current client that booked over my lunch today. 

"Oh hunny, you must be hungry! Go grab a bite, I can wait! I have time!"

 .......Oh?....YOU have time, yes. well, I don't. I COULD technically go grab a bite, then smell like onions and garlic for your entire appointment, struggle to find gum, chug some water to cover the smell... (God I want a cigarette) then run late for my next five appointments. Ya, no problem, i'll just go grab a quick bite. Totally worth it.  Trust me, its not worth it. We prefer to chew on our Tim Hortons breakfast sandwich and re heat it all day. Clearly, we are  suckers for punishment.  (thank you to those who offer though <3) 

"Oh no thanks! I had a big breakfast, I can wait!" *Big cheesy smile*

Back to filing....

Nail art? ...Yes of course you want nail art. Honestly, I love nail art. Im seriously really good at it. Like queen bee of nail art. Flowers, stripes and something pinkish green yellow and green blue? (not the blue blue, because that shit clashes with your skin tone... we all know that) Let me check my stash. Neon, glitter...oh DEFinitely glitter. Who doesnt love glitter?! I would honestly put glitter in my coffee if my digestive system would accept it willingly. I love glitter.  But if you ask for ten fingers worth of aggressive nail art and then get antsy because im running late and YOU have a tanning appointment to get to - You madame can go straight to hell.  Shut up while I draw your husbands name on your pinky finger.  "hold still please" *Big cheesey smile* You know they say that a person with true tact can tell a person to go to hell and make them look forward to the trip. I can say that there arent many more people other than your sweet as pie nail tech that can do this. We are completely capable of transforming like a chamelion on a client by client basis.  Maybe this is why most women feel the need to vent so freely to us. Trust me, honey. We are built like a fucking vault. I would honestly never tell your bestie that you are sleeping with her baby daddy. Besides... who gives a shit? (Well, probably her to be honest. You really need to tell the girl!!) 

1-800-CALL-MAURY

Speaking of gossip locked like a vault. *Vault unlocking noise* I have a juicy one for yas... You better damn well keep a secret too!! Got it? ok. (*all stories told may or may not be fictional, I have a wild imagination similar to that of a three year old on acid. Names will be changed to protect the ego and marriages of those involved*)

This one time, I was working at a salon that had a few nail tables in one room. I had a client that wanted to come in to treat herself to a new set of nails. She had this new boyfriend. (Awww cute) Yeah, the sweet heart just wanted to treat her man right. Nails done, hair done - shes a brand new woman off to strut her stuff to her new fella like a peacock in heat. Feathers fanned out and all. 

"Best of luck doll! I'm sure he will love them! Ps, dont forget to shave your lady-gina!! You no-showed your waxing appt last week!" ....Bitch.  ;) 

Off she goes... meanwhile a sweet ("happily" married) regular comes in for her nail appt to the gal sitting near by. She needs to add nail art to impress her husband who has seemed to be loosing intrest in the bed room. If ya know what I meannnnnnn (bow chicka wow-wow is loosing its wow-wow) She gets a french manicure, adding a bit of length and a pretty gem for some bling. Shes a classy gal. 

-I think you can see where this is going-

Some time passes, we're talking a couple of appts here. My home girl is falling further in love with her new boyfriend who (according to her) was completely unmarried. Wooing her with flowers and oral in the afternoon on his lunch break.  While the woman who was getting her nails done for her unfaithful piece of shit husband was failing at her plot to win back his romance. Her afternoons were spent jotting down names of divorce laywers and the best online dating sites.  Eventually the two nail girls caught on to the scenario and quickly realized what was falling into place right before our nail dust blurred eyes. Wifey eventually stopped getting her nails done, as did the mistress. I'm only assuming to compensate for the high cost of child support... divorce ensued.  I can only assume a messy one.  I secretly hoped wifey would take him for half, win the custody battle, move into a cool condo and live happily ever after.......and the mistress would catch chlamydia from the new pool boy.  

This is the type of shit we deal with on a weekly basis. Pretty deep, huh? 

So please, for the love of baby jesus... next time your esthetician appears to be stressed. Understand that she probably has the weight of a million pounds worth of heavy gossip sitting in her poor brain. Give the broad a break. 

Well, this is all for now from your beloved Nail Tech. Stay tuned for weekly posts from me. Homegirl needs an outlet to vent. If you find this post offensive in any way shape or form I would love to hear your feedback. I will gladly get back to you and edit my posts to your liking promptly when pigs fly, or hell freezes over or bacon becomes disgusting. Send all inquiries to: justkiddingiwontreply@fuckoff.com 

xox