I’d like to preface this by saying: NO. That’s the spoiler. No.
For whatever reason, I decided a few months ago that, despite having shaved my legs since I was like, 12, the fact that it worked shouldn’t sway me from trying something new. Different. Modern, shall we say.
But, let’s not have all the big fun at once: I started out small, by purchasing these “ready to wax strips” that didn’t need warmed up or anything. Just slap ’em on and rip ’em off. And, after a particularly rage-filled day at work, I did. Just my knees and my upper legs. You know, hammies and quads. Smooth!
There’s really not much I can say about waxing that you probably don’t already know. It’s wax. You’re ripping it off your skin and, if you’re lucky and did it right, you’re taking the hair with it.
It wasn’t fun and it didn’t particularly save time or be even remotely convenient. But I am an OBSESSOR and BANDWAGON JUMPER and I’m going to do this. Because it takes rage and I have lots of that. Smooth legs here I come.
A trip to Amazon and fifty bucks later and I am the proud new owner of hard wax beads and a little purple wax warmer. We are going to do this and be good at it. Semi-pro.
So, I said to myself, why not try waxing the ‘ol bikini area? And, look, here’s an internet article on how to do it! It sounds easy! You have this skill.
And I thought to myself, wow, you’re not even good at shaving down there. But this article makes it sound so easy! Smooth and glamorous! Sure, it’ll hurt, but here’s all the pain filled things you’ve done over the years and survived:
- Pierced ears
- Four massive tattoos
- Pierced ears again
- Some more childbirth
- A broken ankle
- Hit pinky toe off the coffee table
- Stepped on a lego
And so on.
YES! I said. I CAN DO THIS AND I WILL BE A PRO AT THIS.
On the bright side of things, I don’t have razor bump things on my bikini line and my chubby thighs rub together smooth and fabulous right now. But that’s about where the positive aspects end.
Because I started on said chubby thigh (chubby as in, when I was doing jumping jacks The Hubs asked “what’s that clapping sound?” and I said, “It’s my thighs cheering me on.”) and I held that skin tight and I ripped that wax off.
And my brain said, “Ffffffffffffffff.”
Let’s not be deterred though, I mean, we’re all here and the wax is hot and you paid like, five dollars for a million tongue depressors to spread the wax. A little more wax on the groin, wait while it hardens…..
This time, my brain screamed, “WHY DID YOU EVEN THINK THIS WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA?”
And my mouth said, directly into my knee cap since I was now doubled over in pain I can only equate to taking a branding iron and clamping it firmly against your thigh, “That hurt that hurt that hurt that hurt that hurt.”
I took a minute. And I stood up and did it again.
Why. WHY DID I DO IT AGAIN?
By this time, my brain had tricked itself into thinking that, well, lets just hurry up and get this done so we can go watch HGTV and whatever. Let’s just SLAP a quarter sized niblet of hot wax on the left side, then the right side, then for funsies one here and here and, oh look, now I look like some kind of ELECTRIC BLUE DALMATIAN from hip to hip and NOW I have to pull it all off AND DO IT FAST SO IT DOESN’T HURT. Hahahahaha DOESN’T HURT!
I considered asking The Hubs to bring in the bottle of Southern Comfort. My second thought was, “Maybe I can just wash this off and not do this again.”
Like, is this how I want The Hubs to find me? Crumpled up on the linoleum with my thighs waxed together and my ass in the air and still hairy like Cousin It because this CLEARLY isn’t working.
At this point, I started to feel a little faint. And, if you can’t imagine trying to pull hardened wax off your lady bits while your hands are shaking and you’re a wee bit dizzy, I encourage you not to. Because it was not pretty.
Just take me now, God.
Okay, this was a STUPID idea. I don’t care if I look like I have the mange, I’m done. Finished.
I slathered on the post waxing oil, cleaned up the bathroom, and then went to the couch so I could sit and think about what I’d done.
The Hubs said, “It couldn’t have been that bad.”
I said, “Let’s wax your balls and we can talk about it.”
Of course the elephant parade of horror couldn’t be over. No. About an hour and a half later, I’d had ENOUGH of nasty, slimy post-wax oil thighs, and I decided to take a shower. It was getting late in the evening. Time to get comfy.
The Hubs had installed a new shower rod and he followed me into the bathroom. I was in the shower. He said, “Do you like the new curtain?”
The warm water hit my thighs and legs and the crease of my legs/groin/whatever.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh my HAHAHAHA ahahahhhhhhhhh yeeaaaaaaaaah.”
“I have no idea what is happening in there.”
“My HAHA OMG IT STILL HURTS LIKE A MOTHER YES THE SHOWER IS GREAT. IT’S GREAT.”
What I heard was, “Well porn stars do it.”
What he actually said was, “How do porn stars do it?”
Get me the wax and your balls. I’m good at this.
PS: I’m back!