On wax

Tomorrow I leave for Florida, so I made sure to make an appointment with my aesthetician in order to wax and polish away a whole winter’s worth of New York City. So why as soon as I am in a sufficiently uncomfortable position with my legs over my head does my Israeli aesthetician ask, “Who is the guy on your jacket?”


“He’s running for President.” Really, that’s about all I can muster. Who can talk any sense during a Brazilian wax?

“Is he against the war?”



“That’s good. George Bush is an idiot! I don’t know anyone who elected him.”


April 3, 2007. Barack Obama, Beauty.

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