Beauty & Style
Wax On, Wax Off
I have had a boat load of bikini waxes over the years, some more aggressive than others, but this weeks' wax really took the cake for most entertaining, bringing the waxing ritual to a whole new level.
As I walked in and took my place on the table of misfortune, I noticed the woman who walked in behind me wasn't my usual go to "beautician". She called herself "Linda". I timidly told her that I had to be in a bikini this weekend, hinting to leave no stone unturned. There was no hinting necessary because this chick Linda knew exactly what I was referring to. She smiled with one front tooth missing, the other one partially yellowed (I was shocked too, I know) and gave me an encouraging thumbs up saying "HEHE say no more!”. I had my doubts about her clean up capabilities due to her own questionable hygienic state, but I put my faith and my future bikini line in Linda’s hands.
Super Linda swiftly got to work like rapid fire, attacking the enemy ferociously. She got back to my roots, (no pun intended) and then quickly and efficiently got down to business. She was barking at me to move my legs up down and all around, to sit still and take deep breaths. She was like the Soup Nazi giving orders and I morphed into Elaine, frightened to ask for more soup. I became a make shift science project being ripped apart literally at the seams. But ....damn she was quick, an essential element to the infamous waxing ritual.
By the end of the session turned over and on all fours, I was crying with laughter, tears streaming down my cheeks that I, like millions of women , willingly commit ourselves to this painful practice, submitting ourselves to a perfect stranger who holds our #1 in their hands. But after all that agony and a quick 60 bucks later, I felt like a million bucks.
There's no way around it, beauty freaking hurts. But I'm happy to report I'm lighter, brighter and eagerly awaiting my Shoshanna white bikini come this weekend. Wish me luck...