Remember my DIY Brazilian? (How could you forget?) Well, one of my readers shared this story with me from a forum. I have no idea of its origin or authenticity, but it made me laugh until I cried so I thought you might enjoy a giggle too. In her case, it went horrible wrong …
All hair removal methods have tricked us with their promises of easy, painless removal – The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now…the wax.
My night began as any other normal weekday night. Come home fix dinner, played with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: Maybe I should pull the wax out of the medicine cabinet. So I headed to the site of my demise; the bathroom. It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand and then they get warm and you peel them apart press it to your leg (or wherever else) and hair comes right off. No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean I’m no girly girl but I am mechanically inclined enough that I can figure it out. *YA THINK!!!*
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. Cold wax my rear end (Oh how this phrase haunts me!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. OK so it wasn’t the best feeling, but it wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-ra, fighter of all wayward body hair and smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids I sneak back 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 apply the was strip across the right side of bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (Yes, it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself.
I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!…OH MY GOD!!!!!!!!!
Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half of the strip. S&%T!!! Another deep breath and RRIIPP. Everything is swirly and spotted. Do I hear crashing drums??? OK, back to normal. I want to see my trophy – A wax covered strip with my hairy pelt, that has caused me so much pain, sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip! There’s no hair on it. Where is the hair.
WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair..The hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I am touching wax. S&%T I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake……………….remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet. I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down. DAMN!!!!!!!!
I hear the slamming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut. Butt?? Sealed shut.
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself “Please don’t let me get the urge to poop. My head may pop off” Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I’ll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off right??? *WRONG!!!!!!!*I get in the tub – the water is slightly hotter than then that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment – I sit. Now, the only thing worse that having your nether businesses glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub. In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn’t melt cold wax.
So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub!! God bless the man that convinced me I should have a phone in the bathroom!!!!! I call my friend thinking surely she’s waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good conversation starter “So, my butt and who-ha are stuck to the bottom of the tub!” There is a slight pause. She doesn’t have a secret trick but does try to hide the laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located on bottom “Are we talking cheeks or hole or what?”
She’s laughing out loud by now…I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else’s night. While we go through various solutions. I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better then to have your girlie goodies, covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I slip into glazed donut land. My friend is still talking with me and my hand reaches towards the saving grace….the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. What do I really have to lose at this point. I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids, scared the dickens out of my friend, but I really don’t care. “IT WORKS!! It works!! I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair…………………………….
THE HAIR IS STILL THERE…………………..ALL OF IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!.
So I shaved it off. Heck, I’m numb at this point. Next week I’m going to try hair color.
I agree with the comment that followed …
“OMG I should not have read that at work. I was laughing so hard inside and trying not to laugh out loud that I think the noises coming out of me were worse than if I had just let it out and laughed! That story is hilarious!!”
Well, I also got a few startled comments about my story. My sister felt it was waaaaaaay too much information for her about her sibling’s lady garden.
These days, I find I’m quite happy to talk about just about anything with just about anyone. I told two perfect (female) strangers over drinks in a bar about my DIY Brazilian the other night.
WHY? I have no freaking idea, it just sort of tumbles out when I start chitter chattering.
I have a funny story, I must share it.
As I often say, I think people don’t talk about waaaaaaaay too much stuff. And that means we worry about whether we’re normal or crazy or stupid.
Sure, discussing your DIY Brazilian might go a little too far in the sharing stakes … but I figure so many people spend so much of their lives wondering about so many things that they aren’t game to ask about.
I don’t want to wonder any more. I want to know.
Song of the day: Spandau Ballet “True”