This is not a post for the faint of heart & rated a mere PG-13. You might as well learn early on that I have no filter. This post will be a prime example of this exact lesson & may even bring you a few of those giggles that I promised in my intro.
So I bought a deal over a year ago for a Brazilian wax. I never used it & since it didn’t expire, I decided to get my monies worth & give it a shot. I have only ever had my eyebrows waxed & I’ll be honest, that’s pretty much nothing when you’ve done it for a while. The hair is also tends to be a lot thinner in your brows than your lady bits (guys, just take my word on it).
I arrived at the salon early. The waiting area playing Coldplay. Coffee, tea, water, snacks, all readily available. However, unless I wanted to induce vomiting from nervousness, I was not touching any of it. I sat down, filled out the disclaimer, & proceeded to wait while playing around on my phone. (Side note: thank you sweet baby Jesus for technology.)
The 15 minutes I waited felt like an hour. Finally (but not really finally, because it wasn’t THAT long of a wait), I got taken back to my private room. Here’s where the fun began. First off, the woman did not question whether I had ever done this kind of thing before, so the look of confusion on my face when she handed me what looked like a tampon must’ve been the key factor. This “tampon” was actually a pair of underwear. Really?!?! If you’re going for a Brazilian wax, it’s pretty much assumed that the person doing it is probably going to see everything. I mean, really I hope they are, because closing your eyes and applying hot wax to an area of high sensitivity is not exactly my cup of tea. If Stevie Wonder were the person performing this service, I surely wouldn’t have volunteered. Modesty during this situation is completely thrown to the wind. Any who, she left me to “change” privately. Upon returning, she informed me that some areas would be more sensitive than others. Oh, really?! I certainly thought that applying hot wax & ripping hair from the root would be a pleasant experience, so this is not what I signed up for. One word comes to mind: torture.
Remember the scene in 40-year-old Virgin when Steve Carell gets waxed and yells obscenities? Had I lacked in self-control, that would have been me. Luckily, my nerves were wound so tight that I couldn’t stop laughing every time it hurt. I also may have jumped 6 inches off the table upon occasion. After all was said & done, or so I thought, she proceeds to tell me to put my legs straight up in the air & hold behind my knees. Yeah?! Umm. Ok. Nervously, feeling somewhat more violated than I had for the past 20 minutes, I abided by the instructions. This is the point where laughing became uncontrollable. So I embraced it and stared at my knees.
How people do this job for a living is beyond me. But then again, getting to consciously torture people probably has its perks. I can honestly say, as much as it hurt, I will most definitely do it again.
I hope you enjoyed taking time out of your day to laugh at my crazy antics and I hope that you’ll return again soon! Keep on dreaming!
“Laugh loudly, laugh often, and most important, laugh at yourself.” ~ Chelsea Handler