To tweeze?

So readers you will be happy to know that I landed a job! A real, full time, yearly salary kind of job. In London, in Covent Garden no less. Yes check me out, a bustling career woman, six inch heels and a killer suit ….
Errr no, I don’t know why the fuck I thought that was a possibility. I’m not working for either Mode or Runway. Those dreams of a high flying job in a lucrative business have been well and truly dashed. I am in fact sat in what was a white office, now turning grey due to the accumulation of dust that has settled itself firmly upon the desks, some of it has even taken its place on the walls. I am, however, surrounded by stylishly dressed colleagues. The gentleman who sits next to me, Pete (definitely the kind of man who would press his crouch into your arse on the tube) is dressed in luminous trousers which he has fashion consciously rolled up to reveal his polka dot (purple and white) socks. But let’s be thankful that he doesn’t insist on showing us his underpants. For all the colours he is revealing I do believe they would be a worn greyish colour. I’m sure he saves that for the romantic moments he experiences with his newly shackled wife.

Obviously you are wondering what I wear! Well let me divulge, because I am running around, buying someone a note pad, emptying the rubbish, organizing the cupboards, and making tea. Mentally taxing stuff I assure you! Do I buy Earl Grey? Or would they prefer PG? Elderflower or lime cordial? Ask them if they’d like tea now or when I’ve had a chance to do a bit more shredding? I wear my trainers, they are Converse so they have a bit more weight than my Nike running shoes in the style stakes and have an incredibly flat heel, allowing me to run at great speeds round the city of London. And for clothes I dress demurely in H&M jeans, and some kind of sweat resistant top. Sorry women don’t sweat, just like they don’t shit, they glow with perspiration and defecate with purity of heart and mind.

So my first adult job isn’t quite what I thought, but the job market ‘isn’t what is used to be. You are lucky to have a job in this economic climate darling.’ As my mother continually stabs into me. But I don’t have one job, I have two. I do it for an extra £40 a week, it pays for me to go out and boogie on down …. Well that’s clearly a load of bull shit! It pays for the DVD box sets I watch peacefully alone. Anyone at 22 who says ‘boogie on down’ clearly needs to stop spending all their time with their elderly aunt.

Anyway let’s move away from my failings as a modern woman and onto the failings of the commuters I have been eyeing up. So I get the x from x to x and there is a middle aged woman, dark hair, olive coloured skin and tired looking (like everyone else, including myself). To the unobservant she is perfectly normal/ average, whatever those words mean. However, I may have stared a while too long and saw something that shocked me so much I actually felt like a prude afterward. Something I have never experienced. So this woman brought out a compact mirror, like most I imagined she would glance, touch her eyes and sigh, close the mirror and be done with it. However, she then proceeded to draw from her purse a pair of tweezers. Again touching up her eyebrows? Mistook it for a nail file? Perfectly understandable. Now this is where I am sorry to inform you that she took those tweezers and began to pluck her chin hair. Now okay we all have hair in places we would rather not. I myself have been mistaken for a man. But I deal with this issue in the privacy of a locked bathroom, or if it is needed you pay someone for the pleasure of waxing whatever you wish hair free. But no this woman got out her mirror and tweezers and had a good old pluck. I almost admired her, the boldness to say as a woman ‘I have a bit of a beard.’ It was kind of inspiring. But then she scratched her lower regions and I began to wonder ‘is this woman actually a man?’ I’ll leave that up to you to decide. I am sticking to her being a woman.
The commute is full of life, people picking, scratching and expelling all sorts. I just wonder if I’ll ever become one of them?