My very first standup joke (there’s video proof of this, but I am afraid to look at it for fear of dying from cringing) was as follows:
I’m Pakistani and Italian which means I get a lot of jokes about terrorism and pizza. Being Pakistalian (HOLD FOR LAUGHS) also means that I’m really hairy.
Okay, I did end up watching the video and I am actually sparing you a 9/11 joke in this bit to preserve some of my remaining dignity.
The point is: I am hairy. It has been a part of my identity and “art” since forever. And, it’s become something I really love about myself—or I guess I’m glad what it’s brought me? Because I don’t actually love being hairy. I really wish I did. I wish I could be one of those women who grew out their armpit hair with reckless abandon and wore a bathing suit with Bush Gardens a springin’, but it’s not my style. More pointedly: it’s not how I was raised.
My mom’s Middle Eastern heritage and my dad’s Southern Italian heritage bestowed me with dark, thick hair everywhere you can grow it. From a young age, my mom served as a hairy sherpa, apologizing for her gift, and showing me the ways of bleaching and waxing. She Nair’d my legs for me when I was 8 because I couldn’t be trusted with a razor (I attempted! Bathtub full’a blood!). I had an allergic reaction from the Nair with welts all down my legs, but they were definitely not hairy.
When I moved to San Francisco, I felt I needed to take things up a notch and started getting Brazilian waxes. This was out of my mom’s league. She didn’t get why people did this. Many people do not. I really can’t sell it to you as a service other than it having a result that makes me feel better. But the service itself? Always makes me feel like I’m partaking in some kink that I will one day tell my lover I’m not actually that into, but for now I am trying to keep the peace.
I don’t know what initially brought me to do it, but I can assure you that it wasn’t for a guy and it wasn’t because I was having a Playboy shoot, or anything. It was just for me. It was weird to tell the esthetician that when she asked “What brings you here? Special occasion?” and you just yell “IT’S FOR ME.” But, it was the truth.
The selling point of waxing has truly been the friends I’ve made along the way. About 99% of Brazilian waxers I have met are the best people. I have laughed, cried, counseled and been counseled. I have heard very funny stories and told them things I hadn’t told anyone else. It’s like the camaraderie of hairdresser and hairdressed, but to the extreme. The conversation is definitely born out of nervousness (I cannot imagine being dead silent through it) but it becomes this true bonding experience. I’ve hung out with waxers and invited them to comedy shows. I’ve thought about things they’ve said to me for years. Estheticians are very wise.
Whenever I meet someone hairy, I am always very delighted. Even with extensive hair removal, there are so many tells. You can never really shed it. For one: hairy people like me have great head hair and great eyebrows, obvi.
There are other tells, too. There are just too many places to remove hair from. I shave my arms, but my knuckles have stray hairs. I can’t have a short bob because it’d be a waste of these luscious hair genes…and it looks terrible on me…and because I’d have to shave my neck hair. But, when I see someone with neck hair out and about, I always feel a kinship. Seeing someone hairy for me is a “me too” but in a good, soothing way. Hair that binds us in removal and eventual acceptance.
When my niece was born, she had hair on her shoulders. Many parents might be grossed out, (first of all: grow up) but not my mom, brother and I. We said “one of us!” And hugged her even tightly. She was ours. We then started joking about the hair removal ways of our people we’d have to show her.
Looking back, it’s funny to me that my mom’s immediate impulse regarding hair was “disguise this at all costs.” My mom bought me laser hair removal at 15 for my back, and it didn’t work. It sucks it didn’t work (because it was really f*cking painful) but that dedication to making me “normal” was strong. It wasn’t done in disgust, but in love. What it resulted in was these rituals. The bleaching of my mustache, tweezing my eyebrows and cutting my bangs before I went out on my first date. The sitting next to me while a laser unsuccessfully zapped my hair and said “Oh, Sammy, you’ve always been so strong!” The bleaching my arms after my dad went to bed and I asked her “do men really care if you’re hairy?” and she replied to me “I’ve never had one complaint.” Proving it really was just for this. Just for us.
I recently took the plunge back in to laser hair removal. I’m doing my legs, underarms and some other stuff. They assured me that lasers don’t hurt as much as they when I was 15. My technician and I bonded immediately. She told me all about how she’s actually known her boyfriend since she was 15. He was the popular bad boy, and she was the good girl nerd. She loves Burbank. And her mom’s name is Susan, just like my mom’s.
Happy birthday, Mom. I wish you were still here. You’d love how far laser hair removal has come.
MOVIE: PROBLEMISTA
Problemista follows Alejandro Martinez after he loses his job at cryogenic freeze facility and has to get another job to maintain visa sponsorship in the U.S. so he can ultimately pursue his dream of making hyperrealistic toys. Also, Tilda Swinton. And speaking of moms, this has a really sweet mom plotline (not Tilda Swinton). I was really impressed with how deftly the multiple characters and storylines were served. Plus, this is just so funny and sweet. Love Julio Torres.
ALBUM: TIGERS BLOOD - WAXAHATCHEE
Waxahatchee’s newest album seems like a companion piece to 2020’s Saint Cloud. From the cover to the sound, it seems to be a response, or an epilogue. Since I absolutely loved Saint Cloud, I’m down for the ride to continue. The lyrics and western folk sound are so incredibly soothing.
TOP TRACK: RIGHT BACK TO IT
SONG: WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS (WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE) - ARIANA GRANDE
I’ll be honest: I don’t like this album. I really have loved Ariana Grande’s past couple albums, but this one was a little too chill for me. This song, however, is so great. It has the complex, dreamy lyrics I love from her with a great beat. And as unrelatable as it is to have a song about your response to fans turning on you, I have to respect it. I also need to stop trying to relate to every lyric of every song. It doesn’t have to be about me!!! (But wouldn’t it be fun if it was?!)
Speaking of stuff I don’t relate to, I saw both Dune’s this week because my friend, Emily, is obsessed. I wanted to understand her better, and sometimes you just have to understand that you’ll never understand. That’s the ***spice*** of life.
Speaking of spice tho, I was so confused, as seen by the notes I took during Dune 2.
Please don’t answer any of this for me. I’m all set.
