Thursday, January 10, 2008

What Women Do in the Cursed Name of "Beauty"...

I should know better than to go to the drugstore alone.  I
t starts off innocently enough. Moseying down the hair care aisle, shopping shampoos and canoodling the conditioners, moving on to hair brushes, bands, bobbles and tweekies.   Inevitably I find my quest for the perfect deoderant has led me down the hair removal aisle.
Now, as other conformist women like myself - I have developed, over the years, an aversion to body hair.  I don't want it where I don't want it.  
Perfectly coiffed on my head - fine.
Precisely plucked brows - fine.
Below the belt and between the chubby thighs - well - that is a different story.  I once was asked, by a man who shall remain nameless (you know who you are!) and who has an ironically odd aversion to female nether-hair to go bare.  So, out of love stupidity and nothing better to do on a Saturday night - I got rid of it.
All of it. 
I felt - cold.
Naked.
And it looked - for lack of better and over-descriptive terms - scared.
I've never gone back to the "grin and bare it" look but have often contemplated sitting on a waxing table with my everything exposed in order to have a groomed groin worthy of the sluttiest of Hollywood's pantyless people and peons. 
So as I read box after box of hair removal creams, waxes, no heat waxes, gels,  and one odd box that had horns - kid you not - I picked up a purple package and went home.
Three hours and one rather horrible fast food chicken sandwich later I was in the floor of my bathroom with a small lilac tub of microwaved wax. 
I decided to do my legs first. 
Putting one pale foot on the cabinet front, I used the wooden stick to smear on a thin layer of warm and soothing lilac-scented wax on the lower part of my leg. 
I glanced at the directions.
"Immediately apply paper and rub in direction of hair growth."
Okay. 
I found a paper and stroked my leg, cringed for a bit and then RIPPPPPPPPP!
"Holy Mother of Gooooooooooooood!"  I screamed.
And then thought about it.
It really didn't feel much different than when I accidentally cut myself shaving.  So I plundered on. 
The wax was so sticky that my right hand was now covered with various bathroom debris and fuzz.  I had used eight strips and other than having a nice polka dot effect and some patches of smoothness, I was doing okay.
Sticky, but okay.
Then - Summer calls.   I answer the phone, my pinky sticking to the cover while my thumb tangles in my hair.  
"Whatareyoudoing?"she asked in a hurried voice.
"Waxing my legs. Sticking to things.   It sucks."
"Oh. Wannagotothestorewithme?"
"Summer, I'm in my nightgown, I have purple goo on my legs, some on my fingers and -well  - everywhere! So - uh -no"
Holding the phone while ripping off another strip was unbearable, and I almost knocked the wax pot over on to the carpet when I jerked and spasmed.
"Okay," she said and then proceeded to talk to me about everything under the sun while I tortured myself with wild abandon. 
Finally, I got off the phone with her and looked at my bespeckled, red leg.  It was half done, little patches of hair still stood like soldiers in a field trying to go unnoticed by their big, goopy purple enemy.
The wax was cooling and more and more I feared that I would end up going to work with a wooden stick stuck to the inside of my calf.  
So I gave up. 
There was NO way I was going to put any of that on my other leg - so it's still "au natural" at the moment.   
And as for my nether-regions -  I worried that something awful would happen - like the lilac scented goo would be too sticky to rip off and end up just STUCK there and, well, that would make things rather complicated... so I deferred and will just be happy with one partly smooth leg and deal with the rest later. 
Well, it IS winter, after all...
:)   
AND                                         

to keep with the theme - here is a blog by my dear sister, stolen and reproduced WITHOUT permission from her one-hairy-legged sister:

Hairy Situation
Current mood: sleepy

I took Gillian 1/2 way to Richmond, VA yesterday to meet her dad. That side of Gillian's family are celebrating their Christmas a little early this year.  2 hours into the trip Gilly  had to go potty.  So we stopped at a bustling travel plaza.  In the packed, and very echo-y restroom Gillian was performing her usual antics.  She sang, tapped her feet, and spoke very very loudly.  When it was MY turn to go potty Gillian kicked it up a notch.  "Momma! WOOOOK!" To say she was screeching would be putting it too midly, for sure. The walls of our quaint little stall rattled with, " Momma! YOUR BAGINA HAS HAIR ON IT!!  WOOOOK! THAT'S SO SIWWY!! But my BAGINA don't gots hair on it.  BUT YOURS DOES!!"

Remember how I said before that the bathroom was busy?  Well, after my kid's  announcement, a pin drop would have sounded like a bomb going off.  OUr footsteps echoed  as we exited the bathroom. Gillian seemed to sense the eerie silence and, for once, when I could have used some distraction, she was quiet.  When we were clear, I swear the restroom erupted into laughter. 

I dont mind being laughed at. I quite enjoy it. And kids certainly have a knack for stating the obvious. I just gotta teach MY kid the proper place and time for a comedic monologue!


6 comments:

amy122389 said...

Hot wax was invented by Satan.  That is all.

~Amy

princesssaurora said...

LOL!!!  We still call ours 'baginas' in this house, since my daughter couldn't do 'v' for a long long time!  Love it!  I am glad you punted on the purple goo... that was scary.  lol

be well,
Dawn
http://journals.aol.com/princesssaurora/CarpeDiem/

oddb0dkins said...

I've never understood the concept of pouring hot wax on yourself, let alone ripping it off afterwards. Jeez! No wonder it looked scared!
You women are either very brave, very vain, or very stupid, or maybe it's a mix of the three? ;O)

B. x

beckiepainton said...

As i sit here my legs are that of a gorilla, and i dont care.I look forward to winter, hairy legs keep you warm and toasty.Armpit hair, has to go though, it stinks.Once me and my sister had a competition to see who could grow the longest armpit hair like my mum once owned, we both gave up after a week, it was like walking around with an armfull of pine needles. Beckie x

ad5k said...

Hi, I've enjoyed reading your past posts. The new look you have with the black text on brown(?) background makes it very difficult to read. Maybe it's because I'm coloredblind. Please conceider a different match of colors maybe?

zoepaul6968 said...

Omg who needs baginas and half hairy legs eh? Us poor women go have a choccie biccie on me hun,I found you through Gazs blog,so hi and see you soon xxx zoe
http://journals.aol.co.uk/zoepaul6968/domestic-chaos/