why I felt a brief urge to stab a teenage girl in the face

Yesterday, I masqueraded about town in my secret identity, High Maintenance Girl! High Maintenance Girl takes a half day off work so she can get her hair highlighted. (Because High Maintenance Girl forgot to call ahead of time to make sure she didn't have roots for her bridal portrait.) High Maintenance Girl goes to a different salon to get her eyebrows and lip waxed. (Because HMG's stylist moved to a more expensive salon and HMG wanted to at least get the 20% discount at the old salon for her waxing.) HMG wastes away the afternoon shopping. (Because HMG does not want her fiance wearing clothes with ink stains to all of their wedding parties and HMG needs her groomsmen's tux ties to be the perfect shade of green so they match the bridesmaids, but do not look like they're headed to the prom.)

While I was jaunting about town disguised as HMG, my alter ego, Repressed Anger Psychbitch came out to play.

I have a confession to make. Until yesterday, I was a waxing virgin. Well, not exactly, I had tried waxing once. At home. With the strips. On my bikini line. Not a good idea.

I do not want high maintenance eyebrows. I like the natural look and I particularly like the ease of it's care. My eyebrows aren't particularly unweildy. I have no dark stay hairs lurking in between and they aren't particularly long or shaggy, but I decided I'd get a professional to help me clean them up a bit before the wedding. This turned out to be a relatively easy procedure. Much easier than the at home venture, so I decided to go for it and let her wax my lip too.

Again, there is not a lot of action on the lip, but I must have a lot of pigmentation there because it does tan easily and I feel incredibly self conscious when the sun hits my tan lip and makes the tiny blone hairs look suspiciously like a teenage boy's first mustache, so I said, wax away!

Afterward, she put some stuff on too soothe my lip and brow and said that when she uses that stuff her redness usually fades in 2-3 hours. Hold up. 2-3 hours! How did I not think of this part?! I have stuff to do. High Maintenance Girl has to make up for that credit card she just paid off. I asked her if I should hide at my house during that time and told her about this time http://amandanothingmore.blogspot.com/2007/05/when-collagen-just-wont-do-from-myspace.html

She assured me it wasn't that bad and I went on my way.

After inspecting myself in the rearview mirror, I decided it was safe to go in Panera. I planned to order and sit at my booth with a magazine to let the redness wear off before I continued my adventures. I inspected myself one more time in the restroom mirror before I got in line. A little red just under the brows, but that was hidden in my eye sockets and a little red in the middle of my lip, but nothing atrocious.

The line was kind of long and two lovely high school girls got in behind me. They went back and forth debating what they would order. One thought about ordering ceaser salad. The other thought she should go for it. I will go on record saying, I do not love teenage girls. They bring out every weakness in me and every bad highschool memory, even though my highschool years were relatively painless. I often find them rude and obnoxious and snotty. I do like them individually, but in groups, they scare the crap out of me.

And, of course, they can smell fear.

A few minutes later, randomly interjected into their conversation, I hear these words.

"I forgot to wax my lip."
"That's okay, I forgot to wax my unibrow!"
"I can tell. Ha. Ha.)

So, this was clearly directed at me. This is the moment when Repressed Anger Psychobitch came out to play. I'm sure at that point that my waxing wasn't noticeable at all because my entire face was red. It took all I had not to turn around and grab that girl by the hair-or at least give her an ugly glare, but then I knew she'd see the wax marks and laugh at me again!

I tried to rationalize the experience.

They can only do it behind your back, Amanda, if you said something to them, they'd cower in shame. Unless they didn't.

They're insecure about their bodies. They have make other people feel low to be able to stand living in their own skin right now.

Remember, Mean Girls, and Queen Bees and Wannabees. You know what this is all about, let it go.

But, I couldn't. I sat there through my entire lunch thinking about that moment. Lord, please tell me this is now how my life will be every day when I have a child.