waxing - don't do it!

This happened years ago, 06/08/03 - but it still seems like just yesterday. So, I'm going to take this time to rewrite it and let it be a public service to all of you. You can never say that I didn't warn you!

I walked out of the bathroom, went into the kitchen, looked my former husband square in the face and said...

"I want the address of the cocksucker that invented waxing"
That was the nicest way of putting it that I could come up with between the bathroom and the kitchen.

My former husband, being the smart cookie he is, held back his laughter by covering the bottom half of his face with his hand before asking me what happened.  Of course, by this point I was half way through my thoughts of telling him how I wanted him to rent a car and how I was going to drive to this person's house and then take this person out back and severely beat them - and then wax them....and I left out NO details! It was all very graphic...and very violent...and no, NOT in a good way either.

Five minutes later and 500 w.p.m. spoken and feeling much better that I had a plan formulated for this person in my head - I finally explained to him what happened...

It's not like there weren't signs:

• Put this tub of wax in the microwave and make it hot.
  
• Coat yourself with this hot wax and then immediately apply one non-woven strip over the wax and rub vigorously.
  
• When the strip feels secure, hold the skin taut with one hand while using the other hand to pull the strip off very quickly at a 45 degree angle.
  
• Put pressure on the treated area with fingers or palm of hand to minimize pain and redness.
  
• After waxing is complete, cool water or ice may be used to calm the skin

I should have stopped right there. I need a drink to kill off the brain cells that obviously thought heating up some sticky crap in the microwave and putting it on my body to then tear something out of my skin that might require me to have to walk around with a bag of ice to relieve the pain.................was a good idea.

It is not.

So, in all my infinite wisdom, I sat down on the floor and put the molten lava-like substance on the side of the tub and thought:  This is cool - says it could last up to 21 days.  It's June. The pool is open. Bikini season, etc, etc.  This is good, right? And on top of it, I'm not a very fuzzy person anyway, so it might even last longer. Good deal. So, I go straight for the bikini wax region and in the process, knock over the vat of wax INTO the bathtub.

I'm trying to think of how I can put this in terms everyone that reads this can understand...

It's like trying to scoop up a jar of superglue. You can't wipe it up. You can't get it off of your hands. You can't rinse it away. It's the sort of thing that should be holding houses together. But I've come this far, so why quit now!

Without getting into any graphic detail that none of you will be interested in knowing, or even care to hear, I'll just say that I keep everything in that area in nice and neat order. So I thought I could just go over the areas I normally shave and that would be that for a good three weeks if this package isn't lying.

How cool is that?

...totally disregarding the fact that they state hair should be a half inch long before you do this and that I shave every day out of pure habit...but apparently, it's recommended that you wait until you take on the resemblance of a small furry mammal before doing this.

First time; nothing.
What the hell. 
Maybe the wax isn't hot enough.

Try again.
Nothing. 
Alright, maybe I didn't let it sit long enough.

Forty-Five fucking minutes later everything is raw and I'm still not sure what I've gotten accomplished. I don't even know how to say it, I can't think of the right term... You know the crease where your upper thigh and pelvic area meet when you're sitting? There. It has about 2 dozen bruises - on each side. And I don't even grow hair there!

And I could really use some ice right about now...

My former husband threw caution to the wind and just flat out laughed at me at this point. The best he could come up with was, "Why?"

He was of no help.

So here I am, six hours later and it still freakin' hurts and the bruises went from blood red to purple...which is NOT attractive, might I add...and I just got off the phone with my friend Colleen.

Good friends know when to laugh at your ass when you do something stupid.
Colleen is obviously a great friend of mine.

It seems she felt she could better express her friendship over the phone instead of just making fun of me through email....which I fully understand and respect, because I would be just as good of a friend to her in return if things were reversed. It's a beautiful relationship...

Colleen: "Why didn't you ask me?"
Me: "Why would I have asked you? I don't call you if I'm going to pluck my eyebrows, why would I call you over this?"

And yet, it was starting to seem like it was really something I should have asked her about first. She explained to me that I was bruised because I didn't hold my skin tight enough on all angles (those 4 arms would really come in handy).

...well what the fuck...do I need vice grips and pliers to get this done right? If we're bringing in power tools, I'm pretty sure I could have achieved the same results with a SANDER...

Colleen: "The epilady is nothing compared to waxing. You should go get it done professionally. They don't hurt, but some of the positions...well... You really have to have some good self esteem"

Oh my God.  
and she's right, I've used the epilady...the epilady doesn't have a thing on this wax torture...

And then she asked the fated question, "How are you going to get that off the bathtub"  
twitch

I told her I couldn't deal. I just closed the bathroom door and hoped the wax faeries look kindly upon their human sacrifice tonight and clean it up for me in my sleep...

I'm convinced that there was a typo in the instructions.  It's not that you won't have to shave for 21 days. It's that you CAN'T shave for 21 days because you're damaged.

I've never loved my razor more in my life.  
and I still want to know where that cocksucker lives...