Ok, people...let's share your beauty horrors.
Here's my story....
The other day while I was walking up and down the high street during my lunch hour, I decided to venture out into a swanky little nail saloon. I don't know what, but something pulled me in. I only had 30 minutes left of my lunch hour and thought what the hell, those women look like they're enjoying their manicures, I might as well get one. So I went in and though it looked absolutely fabulous, I was immediately offered a drink and a seat. Next, my nails were enjoying a good old soak and I was busy daydreaming and staring at Usher on the big plasma screen.
And then out of nowhere came this piercing pain. Quickly turning back to look at my nails, I noticed the little indhayar woman was mercilessly hacking away at my cuticles, my fingers were bleeding and I felt like screaming. But I couldn't, I didn't want to look like an idiot. So, I sat there, listened to her chatting away in her native tongue to her colleagues.
Then she quickly finished off my treatment with a single coat of nail polish and before I knew it, I was sitting with my hands underneath a little dryer and thinking to myself, this better look good tomorrow and wishing I had spent my time reading my silly book instead.
Anyway, it didn't look better the next day or the day after that, my cuticles started peeling and looked swollen. Now they're starting to look better after thorough moisturising but I'm thinking of getting them done again. Properly this time.
N i ended up gettin furuuruc all over my right eye brow. i dont know if i was allergic or not. but thank god they're gone now cuz it took me a while to get rid of them. but at least i learned the secret of doin eye-brows 
, and this Somali lady thought that she could help me out by offering to do my hair instead of the owner. I thought it was really nice of her and I was glad to have someone of the same ethnicity doing my hair for me. At first, she starts combing my hair out and literally it felt like she was ripping it out. She was pulling on it so hard that my eyes were starting to water. Then she put on some conditioning lotion (at least that's what she called it) on to my hair and it started to feel better. The owner came along and wanted to check out what was going on and she was speaking in some weird language to this Somali lady and I was quite surprised. Anyway she moves me on to this other area and starts to clean my hair. As she's cleaning it she starts speaking in Somali to me and telling me how beautiful my hair is. After that she moves me on to the drying area for about twenty minutes and I hated it because that big thing just goes on your head and makes your eyes feel like they're bleeding. Finally, as my hair is all dried up she brings these big scissors and asks me how much I want cut so I told her an inch. I look in the mirror directly in front of me and she's holding this big chunk of hair and is about to cut it. I say nicely to her, ''Habaryar that's too much, make it smaller''. I show her how much I want cut with my hands and silly me I close my eyes because the drier made me feel really groggy. 10 minutes later I open my eyes and my hair is as short as Rihanna's. I was devastated. 
