It’s Body hairs I’m referring to! What were You Thinking?

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Who invented waxing. And who made waxing the ‘Netherlands’ a ‘thing to do’? As my 10-yr old and her friends would quip when faced with a bizarre situation; “like seriously”. If you haven’t been inducted, the process beggars belief I tell you. And yet I upped and went for what must have been the 3rd in a non-compulsory torture series.Laying on the table of sacrifice, I think I understand how Isaac must have felt when Abraham laid him ready to grill, only in my case my late dad probably never had any idea women did this to themselves, much less willingly. Now I know why spas have to be really serene, with nicely dressed attendants, soft music and soothing fragrances. I always thought it was the massage parlour bit but Noooooooooo, it’s the horror of being plucked clean like a chicken. Someone ought to introduce anaesthesia. Honestly I’d subscribe to that. … we could call it ‘dead-wax’. Or apply botox in them nether-regions so they don’t smile, frown, wink or so any of the millions of things they typically do in revolt. My current attendant is all smiles as she takes off every visible hair. My hairs cringe and try to shrink into their pores and my skin just turns hateful eyes on me and resigns itself to the torture coming. Telling me she understands my pain, ‘Tina’ (my attendant) applies each layer of hot wax and using the sheet that feels like stiff bandages, peels me clean. I don’t know whether to give in to my kick reflex or curse her ancestors, or hug her knowing I’ll be smooth and in my mind, cleaner.

Hairy Bits to Smoooth Bits

I recall my first wax experience. It was even more humiliating than my first labour prep where the nurse shaved me with a blade very unceremoniously while talking all the while with a colleague. It was even more embarrassing than my most recent dental experience where I listened, utterly embarrassed, as the dentist and his assistant tapped on each tooth in a mouth that looked like a scene devastated during an epic fight between the Autobots & the Decepticons (Transformers, you should know), made comments and using the suction tube, drained saliva from my open mandibles. So, yeah, it was like I already said, utterly humiliating!! Little did I know that like with labour during childbirth, along would come waves of horror to wash away my pitiable humiliation. So on this last visit, as Tina pulled away the hairs and firmly patted the sore, tender and aching flesh, I knew I just had to write about it. I’d plugged my ears with my earphones, listening to my ever trusty evening walk playlist comprising a wonderful mix of the best of Daughtry and Maroon5 and tried to allow their beautiful voices calm me to no avail. You’d think that activity around one’s pubes would be soothing at least. Hell no!

Pushing Both Knees

 one after the other into a weird angle, she pushed, pulled, teased and slapped on some more hot wax again and again and again. I remember distinctly thinking in a pain-filled daze ‘some people do this themselves. badass!!!!!!!!’. Anyway, when the waxing is done, Tina peers real close at the now bare skin. I’m wondering what she’s looking for. I mean I know I don’t have lice or ticks like a dog. Just as I regain enough presence of mind to ask, I feel a sharp localized pain similar to my first root canal. Of course I yelp in the most unladylike manner… (Yeah I know that ship sailed the minute I lay down on that table…. but shush, it’s me doing the telling). Nonplussed, she explains ‘Auntie I’m tweezing the tiny stubborn hairs”. And this is me and my money o. Anyways, enough griping. I know I’ll be back like an S&M addict.

Do tha dooty

Eventually she said ‘time to clean up’ and proceeded to spray something cold on the pores which were so alive with aching that I bet I could have counted them blindfolded and probably marked and named each one even. And so I lay …. plucked clean like a live chicken dressed and ready for the grill… I could almost smell the rosemary and garlic and even now that I’m safely home, if I close my eyes tightly enough I can imagine a huge ogre of a cook with basting oil waiting to slide my nicely-done parts out of the grill and carve me up for supper. The question then remains…..’WHY?’, why, considering the pain, humiliation and discomfort, would anyone but a crack addict returning to their supplier continue to pay for this? Well, for me it beats shaving with a stick, cream or anything else. Hair stays off longer and the post-removal feeling is one of a surface smooth enough for pastry-rolling (sorry I just had to say that). Having said that… after she had cleaned me up, the pain started to subside. With the pain receding, the self-awareness returned. So closing my legs and reaching for my clothing, I smiled at her, got dressed and swore mentally that it would be the last time I opened my legs for this lady. Well, at least until my next nether-yaya hot-wax appointment…… and I must add, they do pretty awesome massages at this place I go to die a lil and be reborn like the phoenix I know I am.

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