Brave Beauty

My dear friend Clodagh once related to me something her mother once said, which I have taken to heart as I get older: "You have to be brave to be beautiful." And, as I sit in the relaxation area of the Synergy spa, impatiently awaiting the waxing technician - who is already 15 minutes behind schedule, I sheepishly reflect on the previous occasions on which I had follicles ripped by their roots from my increasingly fuzzy back. Not a terrible experience (as compared to passing a kidney stone, I suppose), but not nearly as pleasurable as a pedicure or massage.

With our annual Caribbean cruise vacation only a week away, beautification treatments - both pleasant and ferocious, are being squeezed into this week's already packed schedule of board meetings, doctor appointments, and last minute workouts. After all, there is no place to hide your flaws in a bathing suit.

To make the week even more exciting, I have to also fast and provide blood samples in advance of my annual physical exam. Although there will be time following my return home to have this done, I figured I would try to ace the "exam" now before the endless flow of cocktails, late nights, and eggs benedict bar take their toll on my liver and cholesterol.  Ahhhhh - good times ahead!

Following the appointment....

The folicular forest has been razed. Tiffany, my aesthetist, did a great job. I no longer have that lovely halo effect when backlit. Throughout the evening, my skin continues to feel oddly as if it were wet and my shirt clings to the newly denuded areas. But, if I am to live up to the standards of brave beauty as set forth so many years ago, I promise to face the inevitable itching that will soon follow with silent resolve and a stiff upper lip.