Waxing lyricalBy JENNY CRAWLEYEven Greens need clearfelling now and then, and as my husband was having trouble seeing the forest for the trees, I headed off to the downstream processing beauty salon on election day. Walking down the stairs to the underground premises the thought occurred to me that salon rental is probably very cheap. Salons don't need street-front shops because nobody wants a window into the secret business of ripping and waxing stubborn, old-growth hairs. The woman that greeted me was tall, dark-haired and very attractive. She looked at me sternly and spoke with a deliciously strong Irish accent, "Have you been here before?" I managed to stammer out "No" "Right, I didn't tink so!" Jesus, I'd stumbled into the lair of the Irish Beauty Therapist Nazi from Hell. "Right then, follow me." She led me into a small, aromatic room with a high, narrow table standing in the middle. A strip of butcher paper lay across the bottom third of the table. "Take your pants and shoes off and hop onto the table. I'll be back in a minute." Jesus, Mary and Joseph, save me. She returned as I lay shivering on the butchers paper. We started talking. We covered her accent, how long she'd been in Australia, kids, schools, suburbs, etc. etc. We started to have a few laughs and I realized that the Irish have a way of talking that's abrupt and brutal, yet she was the most affable, gentle person, inflicting pain, not with her tongue but with the tools of her trade; hot wax and strips of cotton. We got onto the election. I was lying on my back with my legs bent at the knees and on a sharp lean to the left. It looked like I'd broken both legs in a car accident. "And have you voted yet?" she asked. "No, no, I'm saving my vote till late this afternoon. I want mine to be counted last. Conservatives vote early." More laughs. We had both worked out, without actually saying it, that I was voting green and her husband was voting liberal. She, for some unknown reason, still hadn't made it onto the electoral roll. Lying there on her table discussing the different parties, Latham, Howard and Brown and predicting how Australia would vote was for me the highlight of that Saturday. I left the salon feeling optimistic, light-hearted and smooth. The votes were counted and on the couch that night, the sickening realization came over me; over forty percent of Australians had voted early that day. No longer optimistic and light-hearted I went to bed with one tiny consolation, I was smooth. (not even that could console my husband).
RAPID RESPONSE EMAIL: What do you think? Thursday, October 14, 2004 |