Bleach

I go to a day spa type of place for my…maintenance.

Let’s call it that because Maggie is always telling me, “Keep it rated G, Mom.  Let’s keep it G.”

Anyway, a girl needs things done, so I go.  The other day I noticed there’s a Menu of Services, so while I was waiting I had a looksy.  Whoa, apparently some girls are having a lot more done than I even knew was available.

Don’t rhinestones fall off if you put them there?

Some of these “beauty treatments” I didn’t even understand.  So, being me, while I was having my “maintenance” I asked, “Why would someone need or want to have her hiney hole bleached?”  Yes, I said hiney because “butt,” or even worse “ass,” seemed harsh.  There was spa music, it was peaceful, hiney was more friendly, zen.

The woman smiled that spa person, I’ve seen everything, smile and replied, “Well, it’s not a service we do all the time, but some women feel self conscious or they do it for professional enhancement.”  I’m not sure what I wanted her to say, I guess I was looking for some…medical reason, maybe?  I smiled, said, “Oh, of course,” and while I was praying once again that both of my eyebrows would survive in tact, I did what you’re never supposed to do in a spa.  I started to think.

Professional enhancement…oh, I get it.  I’ve seen Beverly Hills Cop, I listen to Bruno Mars.  Strippers drop it like it’s hot and well, it probably needs to be pretty in the nether area if you’re putting it on display.  I’m not even sure it’s possible for that to be pretty, but moving on to the non-professionals.

Some women are self conscious about the shade of the part of their body that emits waste?  You don’t even see that part, it’s behind you and it’s hidden between cheeks and…why?  Are things so glorious with the rest of your body that the color of the sphincter is that last little item on the list before perfection?  I just can’t imagine a woman, not in the booty shaking trade, caring about these things, but it’s on the menu, so it must be true.

A few years ago we were at The British Museum.  I always feel small there, but that’s beside the point.  The rituals and procedures, the “maintenance” of the civilizations that have come before me are fascinating.  Some of the things they did to their bodies in life and to prepare them for death seem so primitive, ridiculous even.  I know that much of it was religious and symbolic, I respect that, but under glass, in a museum, you have to wonder what they were thinking.  I specifically remember this woman standing next to me in front of a display case, smiling and saying to her husband, “We certainly have come a long way.”

Yeah, after my perusal of the “beauty treatments,” I’m not so sure.  Maybe someday, hundreds of years from now, that spa menu will be under glass and some teacher will hastily move her class along when little Sally asks, “Did they really bleach their hiney back then?”

My thoughts from the laundry room.  Squeeze Your Eyes Shut.

3 thoughts on “Bleach

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s