I Miss My Aesthetician

by Stephanie

Her name is Michelle and she works at Juut Salon in Gavidaae in Minneapolis. She can work wonders on a girl that naturally has the eyebrows of Oscar the Grouch. My grooming in Mexico has to be done by a self-admitted amateur (me). Michelle would be horrified to know that the other day I attempted to trim my unwieldy brows with a fingernail clipper. The results were disasterous. All photos from the next two weeks will be destroyed in order to protect the stupid. I was forced to go to a Mexican salon to address the situation. I was obivously concerned about dealing with a language barrier in the administration of hot wax to my face, but my choices were slim. The beautician I was working with took one look at my face and asked, "did you do that to yourself?" During the repair process, she held her breath, something Michelle never does and conveys no comfort to the patient, whatsoever. Eventually I left the salon in a condition mildly presentable to a peopled society, but I am still wearing a baseball cap pulled low.

In other horrifying news from south of the Rio Grande: I have finally discovered the limits of my stubborness. After two months of responding to peer pressure to skydive by saying, "NEVER. EVER. EVER.", I paid to jump out of a precious airplane. Falling at a tropical paradise from 12,500 feet was the best view I have ever seen. My mom thinks it might have been bad for my back. My mom thinks peanut butter sandwiches might be bad for my back. She worries professionally... she even has business cards. She was informed of my recklessless post-skydive because I didn´t want to tie up any business hours.

If you have worrying that needs to be done, the international lines will free up at the end of April. I have been enlisted to fly the Twin Otter belonging to Skydive Ixtapa back to Chicago on or around the 17th. I will call this the end to my chapter in Mexico as I will be out of work, sick of tropical birds, and desperate to see Michelle.

The other day while hiking, I was attacked by a tarantula. The kind they have at the zoo and teenage boys keep as pets. These things apparantly also exist in the wild. I seem to remember from a childhood field trip that they are poisonous. I jumped no less than 7 feet to get out of the orange-and-black-death-monster´s way. I am positive it was bad for my back.