Now I know there are certain things that should not be blogged about, there is a line that one would not like to cross. Tonight I am straddling that line. I think most of my readers are female and will truly laugh at this post. However, on the chance you are a loyal male reader, or worse a male reader I know you might want to skip this post. At least just don’t ever tell me you read it, as I will be truly embarrassed.
Now that I have your total attention I must back up a few weeks so you can truly appreciate my situation. It was sometime in November when I began having thoughts about what I would buy Joel for Christmas. I was trying to think outside the box. I had heard friends over the years talk about getting a bikini wax. I have always been to embarrassed and afraid of the pain to ever even begin to think of it. Well, sometime in November I thought OK I will bite the bullet and get waxed. After all I am probably the only woman my age to have never had this done. Its like a right of passage into womanhood. I was reminded of a program I saw on OPB. Young boys in Africa going through some horrific rituals as a right of passage into manhood. In comparison this should be cake. And to be honest, probably too honest, after 10 years of marriage I was trying to be adventurous. So I made my appointment and suffered through the pain. However, I was too embarrassed to say what I wanted and sadly the waxer was not assertive enough to tell me what I needed. So I wasted the money and suffered in pain for not a significant difference.
Now fast forward to this week. I have a minor health problem that leads me to the doctor. I was treated and sent home with vicodin. Sometime in the next 24 hours I had a great idea. I’m sure it was a drug induced idea but none the less I thought it would be brilliant. I have taken vicodin before and you can ask anyone I get really talkative and then really tired especially if I take two. I made a plan to get me that wax job I truly wanted, the kind that would stop Joel in his tracks. It was brilliant I thought I would take two vicodin to ease my pain from the real health issue, take a hot bath and then I would be drugged enough to wax myself painlessly. I somehow doubt that was the intended use of the drug. Hopefully my doctor is not a blogger and doesn’t get wind of this, heaven forbid my chart would be flagged.
There I was relaxing in the tub, making a plan. I thought back to all the steps the Pro took to wax me. After all on HGTV they always have do it yourself programs that lead you to believe you can be just as good as the professionals. Home improvements, waxing, no biggy SO I thought why not, I can do this, how hard can it be? Especially drugged. Right? WRONG! Here comes the fun part. I start feeling the vicodin kick in so I promptly exit the tub, I do have enough where with all to know being too drugged would not be good, so timing is everything. I think first I’ll put a hydrating face mask on, I figure it will only take me about 15 mins, just enough time to hydrate my face and you know how I love to multi-task. After all I want a pretty face to go with this amazing wax job. Again, brilliant I think. I then proceed to the prep work of the wax, of course following the professional example. I have a thought “go big or go home” so I prepare for a major wax. All appears to be going well until I apply the first bit of wax. I remove the wax to discover that the vicodin is not quite strong enough. Sadly, because of the the over excitement in my prep work and the new partial bald spot I had I was now committed to the cause. I proceed to discover my wax, of course from Great Mart, doesn’t remove hair, it appears to only remove the top few layers of skin. I wonder where the professionals get their wax, again another drug induced thought, as if I was ever going to attempt this again. SO there I stand half naked in my bath room wondering if this was the look I was going for. I proceed thinking the vicodin was really going to kick in and it was going to get easier. So I press on for the next 3hours. At this point I was only attempting to achieve a semi- professional look. Unfortunately, the only look I achieved was one of a plucked chicken with a cracked face. I somehow had forgotten my face mask. Joel enters the bathroom, the look on his face says it all. I head back into bath to ease my newest pain. I had wax from my knees to my belly button and sadly everywhere in between. It was not a pretty site. By now all my vicodin had worn off and I am on the edge. I ask Joel what he thinks, secretly hoping he is not going to notice the patches of remaining hair doused in blood. He giggles and tells me “It looks like it hurts. Only you Koya, only you” He shakes his head and goes to bed. On the verge of tears I decide to call it a night. Maybe tomorrow I can finish, at least my face is well hydrated I think. I hobble off to bed. The tracks I had hoped to stop Joel in where now dividing the bed in two. I whimpered in pain and he dared not cross. This morning I wake to find it wasn’t a nightmare and sadly I still look ridiculous. One would think the fact that I can’t wax my own eyebrows with out looking like a clown would have been my first clue. My advice to you is pay the professionals when it comes to home improvements and waxing. Now that all the pain medication is out of my system I am remembering most of those HGTV do it yourself shows leave me laughing at the results, unfortunately my results are comical as well. The question is do I just cut my losses and look ridiculous for a few weeks or go back to the Professional with my head hanging low is shame that I was so dumb to think I could possibly do her job on my own.
I had another brillaint idea for a Christmas present that I ordered online that has yet to arrive, lets
hope that goes a little better. Ah another post in the works.