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Miranda left Naomi to change into a gown, then returned with a genuine smile, realising she could exact revenge and inflict her own kind of torture. She eyed the wax container with evil anticipation. Even Miranda, queen of beauty and glamour, couldn’t handle a full body wax in one go. She’d get her legs done, recover, then do her underarms, recover some more, then go back for her eyebrows. That was the extent of her hair removal ventures. Beauty was pain’s reward.
After removing the stubborn, thick hair on Mr Gellerman’s back, Miranda was warmed up and ready to go. She painted warm wax onto Naomi’s armpit, then patted the wax strip over the top. She waited a little while then ripped off the strip in one swift movement Jackie Chan would’ve been proud of, and watched for Naomi’s reaction, looking forward to the ugly grimace that possessed the face of most people during an underarm wax.
Nothing.
She didn’t flinch. In fact, she was still chatting about the upcoming renovation for the weights room that would be starting in the new year. It was as though she didn’t evennotice. Miranda felt like waving the strip in front of her saying, ‘Hellooo! Look what I just did to you!’
She did the same to the other armpit, with the same non-reaction from Naomi.Just wait for the Brazilian wax, woman. I’m gonna make you feel some pain if it kills me!But when it was all over, Naomi simply stretched and yawned, saying she must come in more often as it was so relaxing. Unbelievable!
‘So now that you work in the building, are you going to take advantage of the employee discount on the gym?’ asked Naomi.
Miranda’s shoulders tensed at the thought. ‘Oh, probably, I mean ... I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.’ A lie, of course. If The Club had a face, she was sure it would be frowning at her right now.
‘No time like the present!’ She tugged on Miranda’s arm, leading her out to the reception desk, Miranda pointing feebly back at the salon.
‘But ... I ... I’m working, I have another client about to arrive!’ Miranda wouldn’t have put it past Naomi to say, ‘That’s no excuse’, but she simply laughed.
‘I don’t mean use the gymnow, I’m just going to book you in, that’s all. You’ll be back at the salon in a flash!’ Naomi asked one of the receptionists to book Miranda in for the first available appointment.
‘Um, yes, I guess Tuesday the twenty second will be okay. Oh wait! I can’t, I go to The Life Makeover Club here that night.’
‘Really? You must know my friend, Gina Longwood?’ Naomi asked.
‘Yes, I do.’ Miranda smiled.
‘I must give her a call, haven’t seen her in here for a couple of weeks. Anyway, what else is free?’ She peered overthe counter as the receptionist clicked away on the computer mouse.
‘Actually, I just realised there’s a cancellation next Tuesday at seven pm, does that suit you, Miranda?’
‘Um, sure.’ Miranda didn’t know how the past two minutes managed to happen, but it was all settled. She was finally booked in for a personal training session. Yikes. There was no getting out of this one.
There, Club. You happy now?
If The Club could smile, it would be flashing a smug grin right now.
As Miranda walked tentativelytowards the entrance of City Health and Fitness the following Tuesday evening, her phone rang. ‘Trisha, hi, how are you, hun?’
‘I’m good, now listen. Hubby has reconnected with an old friend of his, a veryniceold friend. His name’s Simon and he’s just moved back to the area after being overseas. He’s smart, funny, attractive, and even has his own business. Anyway, apparently, he’s on the lookout for a nice woman. Shane mentioned you, and suggested we all go out for dinner together. What do you say?’
‘Um ... I dunno, Trisha. He sounds wonderful, but I haven’t had much luck with blind dates.’
‘Miranda, think of me as your pre-screening service. I’ve met him, talked to him, and I think you’ll like him. He’s going away on a business trip for the next few weeks, but agreed for us all to go out in October when he returns.’
Miranda wished she had some of Liz’s ‘words of wisdom’ cards left to use for her own guidance, but she’d given themall away, mostly in one day when she’d gone on a ‘spreading the wisdom binge’ around the hotel, gym, and the city streets. Anyway, her card would probably say something like:‘Take every opportunity that comes your way. Don’t be an idiot, Miranda!’Well, maybe not that last bit. That would come from her subconscious, general common sense, or inner spirit or something. ‘Well, okay then. But if he’s a dud, you owe me one!’ She farewelled Trisha and put her phone in her bag.
A few weeks, huh? That gives me some time.Miranda walked on with a renewed sense of enthusiasm for getting into shape, and smiled at the doorman as he welcomed her into the gym.
‘Hi, I’m here for a training session with ...’ She gulped. ‘Naomi.’
‘Sure, Miranda.’ The receptionist concealed a giggle by scratching her nose. ‘Go through and take a seat outside the weights room, she’ll be with you shortly.’
‘Thanks!’ In an effort to appear energetic and ready for a workout, she turned quickly, but bumped into the person waiting in line behind her. ‘Sorry!’ She retreated as fast as possible to wait for Naomi on Death Row.
Her time had come; it was too late for an appeal. She stood as Naomi motioned for her to enter the torture chamber. The music from ‘Psycho’ blared in Miranda’s mind, her eyes darting in horror from one piece of exercise equipment to the next. The rowing machine, the chair thingy, and the abdominal whatchamacallit stared back at her, waiting to gobble her up and spit her out. With weak knees she walked, Naomi’s determined look getting closer and closer, until finally she was in front of her, ready for her punishment. She gulped.
‘Let’s do this.’ Naomi planted her hands on her hips.
Twenty minutes later, Miranda was pleased to still be alive. Only forty minutes remaining. She repeated her affirmation;You can do this, just breathe, just breathe,in her mind to distract her from the effort. It seemed to be working, she actually felt quite good. Until Naomi mentioned the word ‘triceps’ and pointed to the chair thingy. The last time she used that machine to work out her triceps, she’d almost popped a hernia, and was sure the expression on her face was akin to being extremely constipated.
