Friday, February 22, 2013

A Story Never Told...

A friend of mine sent me THE FUNNIEST story about a woman who, for the first time, attempted to wax her bikini area with a DIY kit.  It was some funny shizzle, I tell you what.

I emailed back a quick description of why I don't wax my eyebrows and days later I realize it's a story worth telling the world. Why the hell not?

A few years ago, several years after I should have noticed, I realized that atop my eyes was a unibrow not unlike Bert (Ernie's life partner) and something needed to be done.

Most women figure this out in their 20s BEFORE the surging hormones of pregnancy turn your plural brows into a singular hedge that needs a good trimming. 

Me, well, I'm always a little slow to notice things.  Like the hairs I discovered the other day that showed up in an area that suspiciously looks like a beard.  According to the kids, they've been there.  AWHILE.

Back to the wax.  So I don't remember if I had a gift card, or a coupon, I'm that traumatized.  But I do distinctly remember the act of getting my eyebrows waxed.  Having given birth to two children, I figured what the hell, it can't be any worse.

I knew the process, I was aware of what was coming. Sticky warm goop, press some paper stuff on, cooling time and then let-er-rip.

It's sort of like that time I watched real life in the ER and saw an actual c-section being performed.  Kind of gross, but it really didn't seem that bad.  Until I had one.

Now comparing childbirth to eyebrow waxing to most folks might seem, I don't know, a little extreme?  But remember the giant hairy unibrow I mentioned earlier.

Knowing what's coming, doesn't make it any easier, as was the case with the aforementioned c-section.

First of all, when the wax went on, she was all "so tell me if that burns at all, is the wax too hot?"  Have you ever had your child stomp on your bare foot wearing their biggest clodhopping shoes and you can't even form a syllable because it hurts that freaking bad?  Yeah, so um, on to step 2.

Apparently my silence (and tears) didn't indicate the appropriate level of pain I was experiencing, so she picked up those little paper/fabric thingys and smashed SMASHED them onto the wax.

You know, I would hate for the wax NOT to stick to it when it's go time, but honestly pressing 500 degrees of wax that was already burning the shit out of my forehead and eyelid was a bit extreme in my opinion.  Gently should work, right?

I kept kind of waiting for her to put a stick in my mouth like in the "olden days" during childbirth (see, so many similarities) so I could clamp down on it through all the pain.  But no, not so much.

After waiting the appropriate amount of time, meaning just long enough for the wax to cool and my skin to probably start to blister, it was time to remove the strips.

When the woman approaching you to remove the wax actually appears to use part of your face as leverage, you kind of have to know you're screwed.

If you've ever seen the 40 Year Old Virgin you will understand (on a much smaller but nontheless equally hairy scale) what transpired in that session.

I'm not sure if she was a kind Christian woman, but if she was she's likely praying for my soul to this day.  And if you know me, you know I'm pretty foul mouthed as it is, but in this instance I even made myself blush.

But the fun really began AFTER she took the cooling thing off and came at me with the tweezers.  Tweezers?  WTF?  There couldn't possibly be any hair left for her to pluck, and yet, there she was.

After all, the whole freaking reason I decided to get my unibrow waxed was so I didn't HAVE to tweeze, something I'd tried and it made me cry like I was watching the end of Bridges of Madison County.

I channeled my inner child birther, pretty sure I did some lamaze, and finally the session ended.  Exhausted, bleeding and sore (just like childbirth, eh?) I took my former unibrow out of there, tipped the nice gardener who was so kind to rip the shrubbery on my forehead out by the roots and never looked back.

To this day I do not tweeze and I do not wax.  I will never ever ever wax any part of my body, not even my new beard and mustache.  Sorry hubs, you're just going to have to share your razor.  But please don't borrow mine if you want to "manscape" it simply doesn't go both ways.  Unlike Bert & Ernie.

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