My Life in a Stranger’s Hands
I watched the hot wax come near my eye. What had I agreed to? The warmth touched my skin, so close to the lid. I stared into a stranger’s face. She’d said her name was Ramona. She’d said I would look so good. She’d been horrified by the unkempt state of my eyebrows. Then, ripppppppp. She peeled off the wax. How had I ended up with a perfect stranger putting hot wax near my eye? Not a doctor with a pile of degrees. Someone who admitted she had trouble getting to work on time.