This is hilarious and painful
EDIT: This is a JOKE I received. It did not happen to me. If it did, I wouldn't be on LIW. You will understand more when you read below.
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. Then I had a thought: 'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out.' 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, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. I mean, how hard can it be?
So I pull one of the thin strips out. It has two strips facing each other, stuck together with the wax. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in - I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ('Cold wax' yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tig ht and pull. It works! 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-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of 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 wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, managing to cover the right half of my vaginal opening and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheeks (yes, it was a long strip, and it didn't occur to me to cut it in half). I inhale deeply and brace myself .... RRRIIIPPP!!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!! OH MY GOD!!! Vision slowly returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. Crap! Another deep breath and ... RRRIIIPPP!!! Everything goes d im and I'm seeing spots. I think I may pass out ... must stay conscious ... breathe, breathe, OK, almost back to normal.
I want to see my trophy - a wax-covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt 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. Whaaaat? I run my fingers over THE most sensitive part of my body, and it is covered in cold wax and matted hair. Oh no. Oh no no no!!!
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. SLAM!
Vagina, sealed shut.
Butt hole, sealed shut.
I frantically penguin-walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do while thinking to myself, 'Please please please don't let me get the urge to poop right now, I'll blow my head off.'
What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water! Hot water must melt 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?
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than what they use to sterilize surgical equipment. I sit. I discover the only thing worse than having your nether regions 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 as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain.
I look over, and yes, there is a God, my purse is beside the tu b with my cell phone in it. I call my best friend, thinking surely she has 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 glued together, and I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub.'
There is a slight pause. Turns out she doesn't know any secret tricks for removal, but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located. 'Are we talking cheeks or hole or who-ha?' She's laughing out loud by now, I can hear her. But I give her the rundown anyway, 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.
I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor handily on the ledge of the tub. Oh yeah, nothing feels better than having your girlie goodies covered in wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water, and then d ry-shaving the sticky mess off. By now the brain has gone into survival mode, dignity has taken a major hike, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress Counselling when this event is finally over.
I'm still talking to my friend on the cell phone through all this, when I finally see my saving grace ... the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. I've managed to scrape enough off to unstick myself from the tub, so what do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some of the lotion on, expecting at least SOME relief.
The blood-curdling scream probably woke the entire neighbourhood. It hurts, it hurts, ohmigod it HURTS!!! But I don't care. It WORKS!!! I get a hearty congratulations from my friend and we hang up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax, and then the awful truth sinks in. The hair is still there. All of it.
So I recklessly shave it all off. Heck, I'm numb by now. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Maybe next week I'll try hair colour ...
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. Then I had a thought: 'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out.' 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, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off. No muss, no fuss. I mean, how hard can it be?
So I pull one of the thin strips out. It has two strips facing each other, stuck together with the wax. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in - I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ('Cold wax' yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tig ht and pull. It works! 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-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of 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 wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, managing to cover the right half of my vaginal opening and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheeks (yes, it was a long strip, and it didn't occur to me to cut it in half). I inhale deeply and brace myself .... RRRIIIPPP!!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!! OH MY GOD!!! Vision slowly returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. Crap! Another deep breath and ... RRRIIIPPP!!! Everything goes d im and I'm seeing spots. I think I may pass out ... must stay conscious ... breathe, breathe, OK, almost back to normal.
I want to see my trophy - a wax-covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt 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. Whaaaat? I run my fingers over THE most sensitive part of my body, and it is covered in cold wax and matted hair. Oh no. Oh no no no!!!
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. SLAM!
Vagina, sealed shut.
Butt hole, sealed shut.
I frantically penguin-walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do while thinking to myself, 'Please please please don't let me get the urge to poop right now, I'll blow my head off.'
What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water! Hot water must melt 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?
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than what they use to sterilize surgical equipment. I sit. I discover the only thing worse than having your nether regions 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 as though I had cement-epoxied myself to the porcelain.
I look over, and yes, there is a God, my purse is beside the tu b with my cell phone in it. I call my best friend, thinking surely she has 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 glued together, and I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub.'
There is a slight pause. Turns out she doesn't know any secret tricks for removal, but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located. 'Are we talking cheeks or hole or who-ha?' She's laughing out loud by now, I can hear her. But I give her the rundown anyway, 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.
I resort to scraping the wax off with a razor handily on the ledge of the tub. Oh yeah, nothing feels better than having your girlie goodies covered in wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water, and then d ry-shaving the sticky mess off. By now the brain has gone into survival mode, dignity has taken a major hike, and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress Counselling when this event is finally over.
I'm still talking to my friend on the cell phone through all this, when I finally see my saving grace ... the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax. I've managed to scrape enough off to unstick myself from the tub, so what do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some of the lotion on, expecting at least SOME relief.
The blood-curdling scream probably woke the entire neighbourhood. It hurts, it hurts, ohmigod it HURTS!!! But I don't care. It WORKS!!! I get a hearty congratulations from my friend and we hang up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax, and then the awful truth sinks in. The hair is still there. All of it.
So I recklessly shave it all off. Heck, I'm numb by now. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Maybe next week I'll try hair colour ...
