You Can Take The Girl Out of Britain, But You Can't Take Britain Out of The Girl

Every month without fail I take a trip to the beauty salon and have myself a Brazilian wax, so the fact that for the next few months I won’t be at home around the corner from my local salon should not make a difference to my waxing schedule.
When I first arrived in the Caribbean for the first two weeks sourcing a great beautician to provide my usual was the furthest thing from my mind, but being on an island with a constant sea view it’s only natural to constantly want to jump the car and head to the beach to lay out in my itsy-bitsy-teenie-weenie- mis-matched batch of bikini’s all day. So in week two on the island I decided that it was time to start my hunt for a salon or a freelancer that could help a sister out for her monthly waxing ritual.
After asking a few different people and a few salons, I realised that this was going to be difficult to find somewhere that does waxing, but just as I was losing all hope and contemplating doing a DIY wax my cousin told me that there is a spa in town and she was sure that if anyone does waxing it would be them.

So one afternoon I decided to take a stroll and check the place out, the lady who greeted me was friendly which I found very comforting as I’m still adjusting to the island life version of customer service. I also noticed that they stocked a few ranges of familiar make up brands, so this made my comfort levels rise even higher and allowed me to relax a little about getting my wax done by someone new in a place where women walk around with hairy legs like it ain’t no thang but a chicken wang!

So now feeling confident about it all, I enquired and I booked my appointment for my monthly wax bang on schedule.

On the big day I arrive early like a true Brit, expecting to be greeted by the same pleasant lady, instead I was greeted by another lady who at this point I was undecided about her pleasantness.

My appointment was at 4:30pm, being that this is the Caribbean I had mentally prepared myself for my appointment to take place at 5pm the earliest, but to my surprise at 4:30pm no later I was asked to enter the room where my wax would take place.

As I entered the room I gave it a once over and gave it my private stamp of approval. The lady laid out the paper on top of the waxing bed where she would do my wax, placed the disposable panties neatly on top and let the room for me to get ready.

Shortly after she returned and this is when it all began. As she entered the room she told me to “get up ” that right, just like that “get up”, as I had positioned myself the wrong way round on the bed, so I did I was told and did a 180◦ to the other end. Once I was in the right place she reached for the wax, and began to apply, this all sounds normal right? Except for the fact that when she was applying the wax she was doing so like she was painting the walls of her house that reminded her of an ex whilst listening to Jazmin Sullivan “Bust the windows out your car”! Well she may not have been busting windows but she was defiantly trying to bust something!

So me being the polite soul that I am decided to try and make small but nice chit chat with the lady so that maybe she’d think that I’m this sweet little foreign girl that needs to be handled with care, but this just didn’t seem to work because when it was time to rip that wax strip off she showed no mercy and also no skill! There was no “Miss, please hold here, please stretch there”. Nada! Zilch! Niente! Nothing!!! She didn’t even bend my leg to get the spots that no-one sees but still need to be taken care of! At one point she pulled the wax strip so vigorously that she tore the disposable panties.

Once she finished she got a bottle of baby oil and poured what felt like half the bottle all over my waxed area, rubbed it in as though she was scrubbing stained carpet then asked me if it was ok? Too scared to say no, I simply replied “Oh yes, it’s perfect”.

As she left the room, I stood up and looked back at the paper on the bed and before I knew it I was in a silent fit of laughter as it looked like I had just pissed out a bottle of oil. The only thing that this lady did not do to me was flip me WWF style onto the waxing bed and fly kick my arse off it when she was done!

Once I managed to stop laughing and get some of the oil off me so that I didn’t spoil my lovely linen top from Zara, I got myself together,  walked over to the till paid the lady and with the biggest smile ever thanked her and wished her a nice afternoon. That was at 4:45pm. Never in my waxing life have I EVER had a bikini wax in 15 minutes!!!

If this is what I have to look forward to in terms of customer service then I have some major adjusting to do. I’m not saying that Brits aren’t the friendliest people out there, but Meu Deus we could never pull a stunt like that, we’d be out of a job before you can say Bob’s your uncle. I get that things are done differently in different parts of the world, but I’m sorry good customer service goes a long way!!!

Next month may just have to be option DIY!

Love Sara (A little lady who is a lover of great customer service!). xxxx

Image sourced from  Google

Happy International Women’s Day Minha Amigas!!!

To all the fantastic women out there I would like to wish you all a fantastic International Women’s day!

Know that you are never given more than what you can handle in this life, so it is important to live your dreams; love unconditionally; know that forgiveness is good for the soul; remain true to yourself and NEVER apologise for who you are.

There are a thousand and one quotes that celebrate the existence, strength and love of a woman, but here is the one that made me smile the most today…

Image Sourced from Google

What are your favourite quotes / poems about women and which women inspire you?

Love Sara (A little lady on a journey to becoming a woman!) xxx

Ethnicity = Opportunity

One morning while getting dressed for work I was watching re-runs of Ugly Betty, this episode was about Betty and her Colleague Mark both applying for the traineeship of their dreams that would fast track them to their dream jobs as magazine editors.

Betty the less stylish out of the two decided to pitch her idea for a magazine for young women who wanted to be empowered by strong influential intelligent women rather than to be influenced by the fashion world, whereas Mark the Stereotypical bitchy gay guy pitched his industry savvy idea for yet another fashion magazine.

After he over-confidently flaunted his perfect glossy magazine in Betty’s face, to his, Betty’s and everyone else’s surprise it was Miss Betty Suarez that was granted the life changing traineeship.

Pissed off and upset with Betty’s Glory gloating, Mark told her that the only reason that she got the traineeship over him was because of her ethnicity. Naturally I wanted to shout at my TV “you bitter F@#$*!” But as I’d emotionally invested in Marks Character and had already decided that if he were real we would deffo be B.F.F’s, I gave him the benefit out the doubt, and it turns out that he was telling the truth.

When applying to university I didn’t get the grades that were required for my course. So in a panic with my heart racing I called up my first choice uni and explained that I hadn’t gotten the grades and wanted to know where this left me. To my surprise the sweet lady on the other end of the phone told me “congratulations dear, you still have your place” I was so relieved that it didn’t even cross my mind how I still had my place even though I clearly missed the grades. It wasn’t until a year or so later that my friend told me that her friend who lived on the next road to mine also didn’t get the grades for her uni course but because of our post code she was accepted on the course as there was apparently some scheme running at the time for universities to accept people from our neck of the woods whether they made the grades or not.

When she told me this I couldn’t help but feel that I had been pitied upon and that because I don’t come from the most prestigious neighbourhood that I was felt sorry for and given a ‘chance’ in life because without their help, people from ‘disadvantaged neighbourhoods’ like me would never be able to go to university and further themselves. Really?!

You might think that I’m being silly and unreasonable but I can totally understand why Betty got so pissed off. I like Betty may not come from the best neighbourhood or may not be the right shade of light but that doesn’t mean that I won’t work hard to prove my worth, value and intelligence. But then on the flipside as much as I hate to admit it, if that scheme wasn’t running at the time I probably would’ve had to re-sit exams and would’ve either fallen a year behind or ended up at a uni that I had no desire to go to.

There are so many schemes out there that help people from ‘ethnic minorities’ or ‘disadvantages backgrounds’ etc and to some extent this is a good thing, as it presents plentiful opportunities that perhaps without this type of ‘help’ wouldn’t be impossible (because nothing is impossible), but would perhaps just take a lot more time. But then at the same time people are quick to preach how people should not be treated different because of the colour of their skin, to never judge a book by its cover and that all people are equal. Then why do schemes like this exist and why on earth are we still filling out forms that ask us to state out ethnicity if race is not the issue?

Someone once told me that they applied for a job as an experiment. They applied for the exact same position, and wrote identical details on both application forms, the only difference was on one form they wrote their real name which happened to be an African name and on the other they wrote a fake name which was a typical English name and guess who got the call for the interview… Ding-a-ling a-ling for those that guessed the English name!

I would love to pretend that we live in a world where these things no longer happen or that race no longer matters but it does big time which begs the question; When we live in a world that still ignorantly makes a point of employing people based of how English their name sounds or how well they physically fit in with what society deems as acceptable, should the so called underdogs of society meaning the common and the ethnic people of this world be offended or sceptical when the same society that puts and attempts to keep us down also attempts to lend a helping hand? Is there a catch 22 or should we just shut our mouths accept the helping hand and run with it for our future?

What are your thoughts on this? Have you ever been given an opportunity based on something others perceive to be disadvantageous? How did it make you feel?

Love Sara (A little lady with many opinions). xxx