Saturday, July 05, 2008
The definitive metrosexual activity (In my honest opinion.) you've all heard I partook in but never really caught me doing it with your own two eyes.Well here it is so do read your eyes out.
The appointment was set at 6.30pm and it was at Bouna Vista MRT station that I would meet up with my partner in crime. In this case it was my sis.
We do look alike don't we?
A stray thought that came to mind which I've lazily noted is that perhaps this is the only other thing I did with any members of my family besides the annual pain-of-an-ass Chinese New Year house visits.
But you're not interested in the lack of family bonding, are you?
Anyway as the ever current Singapore culture dictates, my sis was late as usual and we started off in a hurried pace soon after her arrival. It was a moderately long walk that made my legs ache just thinking about it. But on the otherhand, the distance ain't that long which made the further taking of any public transport a tad too silly.
So we walked.
Practicing my "in extreme pain" look.
Meaningless small talk tried to fill up the globules of silence that oozes out between people with very different minds while our feets made good time with the distance. A good quarter of an hour passed and we've reach our destination.
A familiar sight for you Holland V goers.
Well this is it. Ground zero.
Laughed my lungs out!
The joint.
Of course I was talking about my eyebrow trimming session. What were you thinking about?
No I'm not gay. Don't deny it 'cause its all your look is telling me. (Yes I have a spycam in your room and I know you're butt naked while reading this.)
Okay I don't have all night so let's just move on.
Located on the 3rd story of this urbanistically edgy shophouse lie a simply furnished salon with an puzzling high count of staff. Cordially one of the staff asked for our names and proceeded with assigning one of their "brow architects" to us.
Quizzally, whilst there were six employees in the joint, only one was attending to us with my sis taking a seat on the rack and me seated behind a partition, awaiting for my share of pain.
And what was the other five buggers doing? Three of those pretty loafers sat behind the counter while the other two gorgous slackers drifted in and out of its adjoining rooms, all seemingly contented in doing nothing in particular! What the fuck?
It was a place filled with bums and I'm felt terribly at home. Hahahaha...
Some 20 minutes later, my sis was up with a slightly satisfied look as she checked out her trimmed brow and I knew I was up next. Awkwardly I got off my butt warmed seat and drag myself over to the rack and I lie there rather quietly, awaiting in anticipation of the impending pain.
The chair of insufferable pain.
Pain did come as hands belonging to the pretty face of the brow architect went to work. At first it was all just dull tugging pain as the upper portion of my brow got plucked and so I just lie there with a smug smile as I took the manageable pain all in my stride. It was only until when she move on the to lower portion of my brow that the real torture began.
My face started to twitch every now and then as a couple of more stubbornly entrenched hair on the brow resisted her efforts a couple of times too many and I guess evident sharp pain flickered on a constant basis across my face.
Despite all that pain, lassitude surprisingly fell upon me. I'd reckon it was in part by the day's wearing (I did came after work you know.) and in part by the sensually calming fragrance wore by the brow architect (She smelled heavenly in such close proximity). It wasn't soon that the pain fell away and I lost track of time.
I couldn't say whether it was an hour or just a mere minute that past but when I awoke and she presented me with a mirror, I saw that I was then the proud owner of a neatly trimmed eyebrow!
A quaint little cafe inside the salon.
Groomed.
I would agree that perhaps a guy indulging in brow trimming is a tad too much for my taste. But I guess that the need for some manner of personal grooming, especially one with a serious case of singlehood as I do, somehow overwhelmed that gnawing fear of the public ridicule that accompanies such vanity.
They say good guys(I'm a good guy 'cause I ain't got vices! Really!) finish last. But I say its either that or they don't finish at all. I know for certain that no one is gonna help me get hooked up with my future wife if I don't help myself at all.
Well, at least I had the balls to admit it. Where's yours?
FUNKED IT ALL UP ON 4:45:00 AM