This week, REAL LIFE kind of over-took BLOG LIFE. Life has been a bit of a roller-coaster. I’ll spare you the details for the time being. Instead, today I have yet another inappropriate story about the adventures of me & my vagina.
Aka, Tales from the Waxing Table, part Deux.
Friday was Pay Day so, after work I decided to treat myself to a pedicure and a bikini wax at the salon I usually go to. In hindsight, the words “treat” (fun!) and “bikini wax” (pain!) probably should never appear in the same sentence. Because when you think about it, “treating” yourself to a bikini wax is kind of like “treating” yourself to a speeding ticket. I do a lot of stuff that doesn’t make sense AT ALL.
After I had my toes painted in Essie’s Lifesaver (bright, almost neon coral toes…YES!), a tiny Asian woman led me to one of the waxing rooms at the back of the salon.
The name on her lab coat said LILY. I don’t think Lily spoke much English. After a few minutes of me trying to explain what I wanted (“Like a Brazilian, but you know….leave a bit on the top. You know what I mean right? Landing Strip?”) Lily just stared at me blankly and said “YES. 20 DOLLAR”. I laid down on the table and hoped for the best.
I started to sense that things weren’t going to go well when I looked over and noticed that Lily’s hands were shaking.
Lily seemed nervous but, the first few wax strips went off without a hitch. Then I heard Lily say the words that no one ever wants to hear while lying on cold hard table with their panties pulled down:
UH OH.
Things suddenly felt VERY warm down there (and not in a good way). I looked down and saw that Lily had spilled the hot wax and it was now EVERYWHERE. Lily started frantically saying,
OH NO. I FIX! I FIX!
Before I could stop her, she grabbed one of the paper serviettes/tissues and applied it to the hot wax. This was a very bad idea. If you’ve ever had waxing done you know that this stuff is STICKY. Like GLUE. Of course the paper serviette got stuck to the wax. When she tried to remove it, the majority of the serviette remained adhesed to my body. When I looked down, I saw that the whole area was a mess of neon yellow hot wax accented with bits of white paper. This was when I lost my cool and let out an audible,
WHAT THE FUCK.
Lily grabbed a tiny pair of scissors and started trying to CUT OUT the paper bits. This also turned out to be a bad idea. As if it wasn’t awkward enough that Lily was digging around in what was left of my pubic hair with very tiny sharp scissors, at one point her gloved finger actually got STUCK in the wax, temporarily glueing her hand to my crotch. After some awkward hair pulling and maneuvering, Lily managed to cut her hand free. This is when I said to her:
NO TRIM. JUST WAX EVERYTHING OFF.
The waxing continued. Just when I thought that we were on the right track towards fixing this mess, Lily grabbed one of the paper serviettes and applied it to the area. Of course there was just too much wax everywhere and the paper got STUCK. AGAIN.
WHY LILY? WHY?! DIDN’T WE LEARN ANYTHING THE FIRST TIME?!
What proceeded was more cutting, more waxing and since the area hadn’t been prepped with baby powder (to prevent the wax from sticking to the skin) more pain.
This whole scene kind of reminded me of being a kid and playing “hairdresser” with your Barbies. At first it seems like a good idea to give Barbie’s long flowing locks a “trim” but then you realize it just isn’t quite right. You cut more & more & more until eventually your Barbie looks like Billy Idol. This is exactly what was happening…between my legs.
(I would hate to see what Lily’s childhood doll collection looks like)
The job was uneven, but eventually Lily managed to get the wax & paper situation under control. Fearing what might come next, I decided to stop her before she headed into the city limits of Brazillian-ville. However, before I could sit up and put my shorts back on, Lily says to me:
YOU UNHAPPY. I FIX! I FIX!
She brings out the tiny scissors again (PUT THEM AWAY) and a tiny comb (huh?) and begins to COMB the jagged edged landing strip & snip tiny strands (precision detailing? Really?! NOW?! Isn’t it kind of too late for that?!). No longer wanting Lily & any sharp objects near my vagina I put a stop to the “hair-cut”. To finish off, Lily produces a bottle of what I thought was Aloe Vera gel. At this point some cool Aloe Vera would have been perfect. However, it wasn’t Aloe Vera gel. When she slapped it on IT BURNED. The room filled with the smell of alcohol. I screamed out. That’s when I realized that she had put HAND SANITIZER on me.
I jumped off the table & put my clothes on as quickly as possible while Lily kept asking me,
YOU OK? YOU OK?
I walked out in a daze and immediately went to the salon owner and complained. I looked over at BF (who had been patiently sitting in the waiting area the whole time) and said,
I NEED A DRINK.
Later, on a patio (while I chugged down multiple glasses of Sangria) BF asks me,
“So…Umm, does it look OK?”
“It looks like a crooked sideways Hitler mustache”
“But, Hitler’s mustache was never crooked”
“My point exactly”
CHUGS DRINK.
The icing on the cake arrived Sunday morning. While putting on my bra I noticed something was stuck to the side of my boob. It was tiny bit of wax & tissue paper. How it managed to migrate all the way up there is beyond me.
ALL I CAN SAY IS,
Spring Nails on Bloor St: OK for a pedicure, just don’t let them anywhere near your genitals.
Now that the bruising has subsided (yes, I said BRUISING) I am now on a mission to find somewhere in this city to finish the job properly ASAP.
So, Torontonians if you know of any GOOD waxing salons that aren’t obscenely expensive (under $60 if possible) please drop me a line.
Anyone else have any horror stories?
