Waxed

A few weeks ago I told my girlfriend Alivia that I was going to get waxed. "You're insane" she told me. Although I do greatly value and treasure my dear friend's opinion, for she is a source of over-flowing knowledge, this time I had to kindly disagree. "I'm not insane, I've had it done before."

For the next two weeks I lovingly grew out my leggy hairs, constantly reassuring myself that it would all be worth it after the wax. I actually became quite fond the them in the final days of growth, especially because they were to the "silky stage"... mmmm.... silky leg hairs!

The day of the wax finally arrived. I anxiously waiting all day for the waxing to begin. As I left work Alivia gave me a "I can't believe you're doing this" look and wished me happy waxing. I went home, dressed in my comfiest of sweats and headed to the demise of my favorite appendage's whiskers.



I nervously sat in the waiting room on a deliciously agreeable sofa. I listened to the water feature trickle relaxing beads of water and inhaled the tranquilizing scent of lavender. Little did I know the torture that awaited me.

My esthetician soon arrived and led me back to another incredibly relaxing room. She was a really nice girl. Nice enough to let her see me half naked?... debatable, but I can't think of any stranger nice enough to unclothe in front of. Maybe its just me.

Next thing I knew I was lying half naked on a table with almost-too-hot wax being lathered on my legs. Then the ripping out of my hair follicles began.

It honestly didn't hurt that bad. I HAVE had this done before, so I knew what to expect. The most uncomfortable part was trying to come up with small talk. It felt too awkward to just watch this lady work on my Sasquatch legs, something had to be said. "So.... (long long long pause) how long have you been doing this?". UGH! I am terrible at small talk and I don't do well with strangers, particularly when I am exposed... on a table... with hot goo being poured all over my body.

After about the first 30 minutes the conversation really started to develop. I wasn't quite so nervous. I wasn't in THAT much pain. Not to mention, my esthetician had a great sense of humor to boot! Then.... (nervous pause for the painful memory) THEN, we got to more "sensitive" areas to wax. OH. MY. NUGGET.

(SON OF A MOTHERLESS GOAT!)

The first layer of wax was applied. The cloth was gently laid atop the wax... then... RIP!!! SON OF A MOTHERLESS GOAT!!!!!! That was the swear I keep screaming in my head. I don't know where I came up with that, but I silently yelled it to myself over and over. "Are you ok?" the darling esthetician asked. I swallowed the gigantic knot in my throat, then, with watery eyes, managed a small but pleasant "Yep". She, of course, knew I was lying, especially when I looked to see her handy work and blood was seeping out of my hairless pores. I almost fainted.

Eventually she got me a few gossip magazines to help me forget the pain and torture I was being subjected to (albeit willingly). I couldn't even read the articles, I just flipped though the pages, glancing at pictures, wringing the magazine pages in my sweaty hands with each progressive RIP!!!

I may have passed out for a while, I can't be sure. But soon it was over. I was rubbed down with wax remover and told I could finally go home.

I hobbled out to my car, still sticky from the bits and pieces of wax we couldn't get off. I kept thinking, "Liv was right, I AM insane".

The next day was rough, but things have been getting progressively better. I can walk now, and all of the wax is gone. In fact, today I feel great! I even made myself another appointment, six weeks from now.

Sigh.

The things we do for beauty.