I have to admit that after 40-something years on the planet, I have never had my legs waxed. I was a waxing virgin. So I became a little bold and adventurous this past week and slapped down my $11 plus tax on a "environmentally safe, practically organic" bikini wax kit made with honey.
Uh........ What was I thinking?
Oh yeah - the ability to save money by throwing all my razors in the trash for the whole summer - PLUS - joining all the other ranks of women who had gone through this most time-honored ritual of female beauty enhancement.
Oh, pleeeeeez!
I thought if most women could do this and live through it, then so could I. I mean, how hard could it be to let my leg hair grow a little longer, smooth a little "honey wax" on with a makeshift tongue depressor, and pull all that hair out with a strip of clear plastic. I was gonna be free of hair and shaving razors for at least six weeks. Almost the whole summer - YIPPEE!
I put the younger girls today, the man/boy were zoned out on Wolverine on Xbox 360, and Nadia was more than willing to assist me in my endeavor. She grabbed the camera to record history!
I put on my spa bathrobe that my mother most thoughtfully gave me for Christmas since I'm trying to turn my bathroom into the smallest spa on the planet. I stared at the box of bikini was determined that my body/skin was gonna look just like the anorexic model on the box: soft, smooth, and freaking hair-free!
I carefully laid out all my accessories included in the box. I heated the honey wax for 10 seconds and arranged everything so that it was within an easy reach cause the directions said that I had to work fast.
Hmmm.... why was that?
I quickly smoothed on a thin layer so that my overgrown hair would show through the stuff; just as the box instructed.
"Yep, there's the hair gleaming right through the sticky stuff."
Now the strips you are suppose to use to remove the hair comes in a, what I now know, was an unmanageable roll that has to be cut as you go. So I quickly measure off a sizeable piece to do the first hair removal and spread it on my legs in a quick downward motion a couple of times.
Then:
Holy Freaking Mother Mary of God!!!!!
(I think that's how that goes at a moment like this)
"Honey, are you okay in there?", my husbands yells. I guess the scream was kinda loud because Nia and Toni are now standing in my claustrophobic bathroom staring at my legs with mouths open wide.
'"I'M JUST PEACHY HONEY! JUST DOING WHAT I CAN TO SAVE SOCIETY FROM HAVING TO STARE AT YET ANOTHER HAIRY ITEM ON A WOMAN'S BODY!
THANKS FOR ASKING!",
I yell back between clinched teeth and my tongue depressor full of honey wax that I would rather stab in my eye because it would be less painful at the moment.
There was absolutely NOTHING in the instructions that said to have a fire extinguisher nearby because your legs would literally feel like someone set them on fire with a flame thrower!
I began to work faster thinking that the reason I was in so much pain at the moment was because I didn't do in less than five seconds.
There is absolutely NO way of looking decent - much less pretty - while ripping skin and hair off your body.
So get over the disgusting look on my face right now!
Working faster was not helping me a bit. Everything on me and around me was becoming a sticky mess. Little white circles started showing up on my legs where I had just "waxed". I was sure it was pulling up the upper layer of my epidermis as I was doing this.
Nadia had suddenly announced that she would never wax her legs as long as she lived.
I was in a sea of sticky goo from my feet to my head. The fuzz on my bathrobe was coming off in my hand every time I touched it. The handy-dandy cut off "strips" were stuck to the cabinet. When I pulled them to detach them from the counter top, they stuck to my hands. When I tried to remove them from my hands in order to cut the next strip, they flew from my fingertips and complete unrolled all over the bathroom floor.
Sticky honey wax goo had now left a layer of semi-cement on my floor combined with unrolled layers of plastic film. What was suppose to be a little spa "me" time, has now turned into me being glued to my bathrobe and the toilet seat, and has me wondering if I can rent a jackhammer this late in the evening in order to get this shit off my bathroom floor!
I decide to step over into the bathtub and rinse everything off to see where I need to "wax" next because the crap is all over me at this point. A little warm water and soap later and I notice that everything stinking damn hair is STILL on my legs.
I have accomplished NOTHING!
Then I see my little pink razor sitting rather lonely in the corner of my bathtub.
"Please, please use me - I'll make that nasty hair go away.", it beckons me.
I reach over and grab the sucker and proceed to shave all that hair off my legs with glee. On one of the last strokes of the pink and silver glider, it "bites" me.
My pretty pink razor had shown me how it felt about my whole waxing experience. I had neglected her, hurt her plastic feelings, and she showed my how much by leaving me one more reminder of how I will NEVER do this myself again.
She nicked the shit out of me!
There was only one way to resolve this whole situation. Put the bikini wax where it belonged.
I could think of a 100 million better ways to use honey and figured this was the best possible way to store the stupid skinny broad on the front of the box mocking me each time I looked at her.
Losing my waxing virginity was very painful in my later years of life. But at least I tried it once just to say that "I did it!".
I will try again one day with a much more experienced partner. He/she will be skillfully trained in the art of ripping ones hair from my delicate and tiny follicles. Hopefully, they will wine and cheese-n-cracker me during the process.
"Screw the hors d'oeuvers, I'll just take the bottle please!"
I wonder if they will make me wear a muzzle though?
