See me see trouble…on my quest to look pretty-er, I decided to go thread my brows o. As per since I am a chic that represents (that kin ting). I left work at about 5:30 and decided to walk northbound to fulton street. I had discovered this small spot where they thread brows and the chics actually do a good job for $7 which is better than some places in the village and 34th street. So I walk up to water street and then up on broad street and pass wall towards fulton area sha. That is how I decided to cut through maiden lane to hit broadway (I’m a downtown champion). On maiden lane I found this other threading place….smaller, cute, $7 so I figure, what the hell, I might as well get it done here.  I walk in, smile and say “hello, I’d like to thread my brows…” I’m told to sit down so I take off my hat and loosen the scarf around my neck, bend my head and prepare to receive the pain. Those who thread know that its painful – yes it looks good at the end of it all but each time I thread I remember a scene from Grease when Frenchie tells Sandy, “Beauty is pain”. The lady proceeds and I’m like, okay this isn’t too bad – moments later I was begging to differ.  To make issues slightly irritating, the chic threading my brows said, “do you want to thread your lips too?”. YEPA! Insult! “…you have hair there” – I felt like telling her WAKA, but I decide to be civilized by saying “no…thank you, maybe next time”. But this chic is quite relentless and she goes on telling me about the first time she threaded hers and how she still threads them today. See me see wahala – na by force? – I said I don’t want. She still goes and on and on and when she realized that she was fighting a lost cause she tries to pass a guilt trip, “Its your choice”.. almost suggesting that she is doing me a favor.  She did a neat job on the brows though – I have to give it to her. To top it off she said I had pretty eyes and I was like, “why, thank you!”

It was now time to pay. My wallet wasn’t in my bag. Okay – trouble. No money anywhere…trouble o. I’m almost stammering now and I tell her to pardon me while I rush back to my job to look for my wallet. I left my bag with her so she wouldn’t think that I was trying to pull a fast one. I was so confused…I was practically shouting “Jesus O!…my life, where is my wallet o”. I knew well that it wasn’t at work. I didn’t use it at all today – I brought in lunch and I used my freedom pay for my breakfast. Nevertheless I decided to run back to work just to check…So edede starts sprinting…the ground is wet and slippery…I was hysterical, talking to myself…financial district became confusing, like I didn’t know my way around…my friends at work had since ja so the prospects of loaning $10 seemed slim. I started plotting ways to run away or get myself out of this mess. What if the woman puts up a sketch of me – “Wanted! Girl with Pretty eyes and Mustache” – that would be a mess. What if I gave her my wrist watch…or wrote an IOU (in NY? I highly doubt it)…what to do, what to do? I finally get to work and my wallet isn’t there. I called COS…

COS – Hello

Me – I need $10

COS – why?

Me – I lost my wallet jare. I threaded my brows and I don’t have money to pay

COS – meet me at my job in 20 mins…is that enough time?

Me – ehn…actually, make it 15 min.  I will run. 

I sprinted from work to the GS building close to the South Street Seaport. For someone who hasn’t gymed in a while, I was in good shape…Omo, I got there in 6 mins (as in f’real men). So I’m waiting cos I am way too early. COS finally comes down and I’m smiling…He takes one suspicious look at me and says “are you sure you are not trying to play me?”….I’m not sure why I have this reputation, but let me set the record straight, I am not a swindler, or wayo wayo. I collected the $20 from him and ran back to the salon to pay the chic.  

The battle is half over cos I don’t know where my wallet is…I think about the stuff in it…$20, my credit cards, bank cards, express and gap card, license, alumni card. Funny enough I’m not too bothered and I hop on the train and started reading The Devil and Miss Prym. Next stop 110 st…I got off, now I was weak…I breathing felt funny. I wasn’t sure if it was the anxiety or the cold. I got home and I tiptoed into my room and I didn’t even turn on the light (it was as if I was trying to set a mood) …I try to scope around for something that looks like a wallet – nothing. Out of frustration, I turned on the light, almost resolved to call the banks and cancel my cards. That is how I found the wallet…under one of my hats. J . What relief – it was quite adventurous though.  


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