The Apprentice

Is torture ever a legitimate action? Wherein is the good that compensates for the violation of human character? That being said, no matter how foreign the soil or discombobulating the customs, wherever you are in the world, women, be she an illiterate village woman or president, will make sacrifices on the altar of beauty. Furthermore, not inexplicably (the reasons ascertained may be discussed further in a future blog) are anxious to improve their own, whatever the cost: this country is no different. Case in point, the art of threading. It matters not how straight the gate nor charred with punishment the scroll, these women congregate in cruel harmony to overcome their common adversary as Middle Eastern women: body hair. Sure, it can look lovely, strong and fit enough for a Pantene commercial in theory but the reality is not that kind. In full recognition of this odious fact, threading is a common treatment against all unsightly manifestations of it. In the States, threading, that is, taking a spool of thread (I prefer the color red to set the mood), twisting it around your hands and, with concentrated effort, begin sawing motions across the body. With this innocuous torture device, this little spool of thread rips great patches of hair from the root. This art must be done delicately, which takes time. Lying on one another’s lap, the women stretch and strain to aid their beloved victims, mixing that heady concoction for beauty consisting of tears of pain and smiles of exchanged sympathy and delight with the final product. Ultra white girl that I am, cleaning up my brows are all that’s necessary. Others are not so fortunate. While I am not a promising “test” candidate I refused to be deterred from fully experiencing this communal ritual of womanhood. It took an embarrassing amount of time for me to learn how to thread the skin just right (much to the amusement of my onlookers) but after much duress, I finally finished threading the hair of one subject’s arm. I was quite pleased with myself although I cannot ascertain whether or not my subject concurred. She only bled a little bit. Which is good, right? Perhaps I have the makings of a good apprentice after all. On to my next victim!