“So, I think we can fit you in for three weeks in March and April, yes?” The woman at Alliance Francaise is sitting at a desk with her calendar out. We have spent fifteen minutes comparing my schedule for the next three months with the school’s schedule of French classes.
“Yes, possibly more, I want to take classes for as long as possible,” I respond, sounding very much like a dedicated student. “It is very important.”
“You know, really you should be speaking in French to me right now,” she responds.
“Then why are you speaking to me in ENGLISH, Frenchie-Trickster,” I want to scream but choose instead to give her a tight smile.
“So, what is so important, why do you want to take French classes? This is for work? For school?”
“Because I was electrocuted and I like my eyebrows to be consistent.”
Rewind to one week earlier.
“Vous connaissez ce,” asks the esthetician, holding a glass wand in the air.
I am lying on my back on a massage table…mid-facial.
“Ah oui…” I respond, looking at the wand. This is the tool used in some facials to pass electrical current through the muscles in your face. It is a procedure that I have endured before.
“Ah bon,” she says as she turns it on.
The wand starts snapping and I see the blue lightning bolts of current begin running through the glass just as she brings it to my face…with a much higher voltage than I am used to.
“Holy sh*t,” I think. “This is a little intense.”
I try to figure out how to explain to her that I am fine with the treatment but that maybe we could use a slightly lower voltage. However, my brain is not computing the sentence. I race through my internal file cabinet of French words and can’t seem to be able to combine anything that would make a shred of sense.
“Wait…should I be tasting metal in my mouth?”
Nothing like a little mild electrocution to motivate you to go back to French school.
For months now, I have been looking at my schedule trying to sort out the time when I can go back and take a solid three months of French classes but something always seems to be in the way; I have too much work, or we have visitors coming in town, or a trip that has already been planned. There is always a reason; but this is the last straw. I have crooked eyebrows because I have been plucking them myself for the past year. My skin is shamefully dirty because of my (apparently reasonable) fear of getting a facial without the correct language skills, and don’t even get me started on the state of my feet.
There are some things I can endure…like not knowing how to respond when a police officer asks you a question or having to have MB accompany me to the gynecologist; but dirty pores?! JAMAIS! I need to live in a world in which I can go and get hair waxed off my body without worrying about getting a third degree burn, a world where I can explain to my hairstylist that I hate short bangs, …a world where I can go and have a facial without fear of neurological damage!
And so…I am re-enlisting, for a better tomorrow! A tomorrow in which I can choose to pay to be electrocuted at the exact voltage of my preference.