I was chatting with my mom the other day and she asked if I was going to resume doing facials at the salon. I only book waxings right now and I love it. Having the power to inflict pain on someone, legally and get paid for it is a wonderful thing. During our chat, one thing leads to another and we reminisced about a time I went to Paris for training. The experience should have been Eiffel Towers, Moulin Rouge, berets and gorgeous men with accents feeding me cheese and wine…but no, it ended up being one of the most humiliating experiences of my life.
I’m given the opportunity of a lifetime, to train at the Jacques Dessange Institut de Beaute in Paris. Little did I know the French way of doing things…i.e. NAKED, but I would soon find out.
We had make-up classes, facial classes and product classes. Then we get to massage technique class. Its 8am and I had one cup of coffee and a chocolate croissant sitting in front of me, I’m not ready for this shit yet. The teacher comes in and says “Partner up….its massage day!” but with a thick French accent, nose in the air, sounding very snobby and I don’t think those are the actual words she said. Me and 2 others from my salon are there with 21 other woman from around the world, plus 10 interpreters since no one spoke the same language. There is a chick from Kuwait sitting next to me so we are a team.
The instructor holds up a pair of spa panties. This is what we are to wear for our massages. She then tells us one person from each team will massage the other and after lunch we switch. So I get the bright idea that if I do the work first, I’ll get to eat lunch and then get a massage and relax the rest of the afternoon. BIG MISTAKE.
My Kuwaity girl agrees to this brilliant idea after a series of hand gestures and loud talking, <as I always think its easier to understand English if I scream it at them> as she doesn’t speak English and I don’t speak Kuwaity ….and then she starts stripping. Just like that. Right there in the classroom. I’m like hold up! Isn’t there a dressing room or something? Plus, where are the bed sheets and things to cover your person up with? Huh, this seems odd….then I look around and everyone is just dropping drawers all over the damn place. I look over to my horrified USA workmates and we are asking each other via eye language “What the fuck is going on???” We are clueless as to what to do. In the good ol’ USA we have locker rooms and plush robes and sheets to cover up with at our spa….We are a puritanical society, this just doesn’t happen. Apparently, this is how the French do it. And every other country besides America. When in Rome….or Paris or wherever…just do it too.
We get through the morning session, me massaging naked Kuwaity girl, and head to lunch and I am getting more nervous as the time goes by. Oh gawd, I don’t want to have to do this but what choice do I have? We file back in and I get undressed, put my spa panties on like a big girl and lay there with no sheet on, totally exposed for all the hawt foreign girls to see my jiggly American thighs, badass USA stretch marks and apple pie covered ass. This is just fucking great.
I’m trying to relax, I mean I am getting a massage from a girl who I just saw naked so what’s the big deal right? Finally, I feel my muscles go limp, my breathing evens out, that baguette for lunch is starting to kick in and put me in a carb coma ….and apparently I fell asleep. AND STARTED SNORING! To the point where the teacher stopped the class, and had EVERYONE come stand around me to wake me up. Can you imagine for a moment, being in France, naked on a table, having a Kuwaity girl massaging you, falling asleep, snoring and then waking up to 48 eyes leaning over the bed staring and snickering at you in 12 different languages??? Can you?? It was horrifying to say the least. My poor poor coworkers were mortified…and who could blame them? I’ve now just disgraced America the Beautiful. I know that Swedish chick was talking smack on me the rest of the day, and the Egyptian girl kept giving me the evil eye. Gawd, now I’m wondering if I farted too? I never asked and I don’t ever want to know.
I love French maids, French kisses, French fries and French manicures but not a French massage. That one they can keep.