Had this happened to someone else I would have found it hilarious.
Today I went to the beautician, as it's time for me to hit the beach soon and I had to get, you know, bikini-ready with a bikini wax (hey we are all good friends here, I am happy to share every intimate detail of my life).
After a chat with the receptionist I go into the treatment room (or torture chamber as I like to call it) and lie on the table (or torture table as I like to call it). The beautician arrives and she mumbles something vaguely - this is exactly the bit where I should have paid more attention and not just nodded.
Turns out she had understood I was after a Hollywoodian wax, which for non-connoisseurs means EVERYTHING off. And by the time we realised there was a miscommunication it was late, wayyyyy too late.
All I can say at this point is: