||[Jan. 4th, 2005|12:19 pm]
I found the following in an email group I belong to. One word of warning, it is funny (the person who sent it to the group said she *literally* fell on the floor laughing when she read it -- I think that tops my laughing so hard I cried). Anyway, it is also long, and contains a detailed account of a female bikini wax. You have been warned.|
All hair removal methods have tricked me with their promises of
easy,painless removal -the Epilady, the standard razor, the
scissors, the Nair, the EpilStop,and now .. ..The Wax. My night
began as any other normal weekday night. I came home from work,
fixed dinner for my son and we played for a while. I then had the
thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next couple
hours:maybe I should use that wax in my medicine cabinet. I set up
my boy with a video and head to the site of my demise, um, I mean
bathroom. It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of
hot wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them
apart, press it on your leg (or wherever) and ignore the
frantically rising crescendo of string instruments in the
background. No muss, no fuss. How hard can this be? I mean, I'm
not the girly-est of girls but I'm mechanically inclined so maybe I
can figure out how this works. You'd think. So I pull one of the
thin strips out. It's two strips facing each other, stuck
together. I'm supposed to rub it in my hand to warm and soften the
wax (I'm guessing). I go one better: I pull out the hair dryer!
And heat the SOB to ten thousand degrees. Cold wax, my butt. (Oh,
how that phrase will come back to haunt me.) I lay the strip across
my thigh. I hold the skin around it and pull. OK,so it wasn't the
best feeling in the world, but it wasn't bad. I can do this! Hair
removal no longer eludes me!
I am Sheera, fighter of all wayward body hair and smooth skin
With my next wax strip, I move north. After checking on the boy and
verifying that he was, in fact, becoming one with Bear and learning
all about smells, I sneak into the bathroom for The Ultimate Hair
Fighting Championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the
toilet. Using the same procedure, I then apply the wax strip
across the right side on my bikini line, covering the right half of
my vagina and stretching up into the inside of the right butt cheek.
(Yeah, it was a long strip.)I inhale deeply. I brace myself.
I'm blind! Blind from the pain! Vision returning. Oh crap. I've
managed to pull off half an inch of the strip. Another deep breath.
And RIIIIIIIP ! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed? Do I hear
OK, coming back to normal again. I want to see my trophy - my wax
covered pelt that caused me so much agony. I want to revel in the
glory that is my triumph over body hair.
I hold the wax strip like an Olympic gold medalist.
But why is there no hair on it?
Why is the wax mostly gone?
Where Could the wax go, if not on the strip?
Slowly, I eased my head down, my foot still perched on the toilet.
I see hair - the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I
feel. I am touching wax. I look to the ceiling and silently
shout "nooooooo!!" And realize I have just begun living my own
personal version of "The Tar Baby."
I peel my fingers off the softest, most sensitive part of my body
that ismnow Covered in cold wax and matted hair, and make the next
big mistake - up until this point, you'll remember, I've had my foot
on the toilet. I know I need to move, to do something. So I put my
foot down on the floor.
And then I hear the slamming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut.
Butt? Sealed shut.
A little voice in my head says "I hope you don't have to shit
anytime soon. Your head just might pop off."
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to figure out
what I should do next.
Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I'll run the hottest water I can
stand and get in. The wax should melt and I can gently wipe it away,
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than is used to
torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment. And I sit.
Now the only thing worse than having your goodies glued together is
having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of a tub.
In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt the cold
wax.So now I'm stuck to the tub.
I call my friend, C, because she once dropped out of beauty school so
surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off skin.
It's never good to start a conversation with "So my butt and vagina
are stuck to the tub."
She doesn't have a trick. She does her best to suppress laughter.
She, wants to know exactly where the wax is on the butt.
"Are we talking cheek or hole, here?" she asks.
She isn't even trying to hide the giggles now.
I give her the run-down of the entire night. She tells me to call
the number on the side of the box, but to have a good cover story
for where the wax actually is.
"You know that if we were working the help line at XX Wax Co.
and somebody called with their entire crack sealed shut we'd just
put them on hold then record the conversation for everyone we know.
You're going to end up on a radio show or the internet if you tell
them the truth. While we go through various solutions, I have
resorted to scraping the wax off with a razor.
Boy, nothing feels better to the girly goodies than covering them in
wax, sticking them to a tub in super hot water and THEN dry shaving
the sticky wax off!
In the middle of the conversation (which has inexplicably turned to
other subjects!) I find the little, beautiful saving grace that is
the lotion provided with wax to remove the excess.
I rub some in and start screaming "It's working! It's working!"
I get hearty congratulations from C and we hang up.
I successfully remove all the wax and notice, to my dismay, that the
Hair is still there.
So I shaved the damned stuff off. Hell, I was numb by that point
And then I put the box of wax back in my medicine cabinet.
Never know when a moustache might start to come in.
Tonight, I attempt hair dying.