TMI Thursday: Self Waxing

So, I have decided to participate in LiLu's TMI Thursdays.

"Alright, folks, you know the rules. Join us all in humiliating the crap out of yourself every Thursday by sharing some completely tasteless, wholly unclassy, “how many readers can I estrange THIS week??” TMI story about your life. Or hell, about someone else’s!"

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WARNING: If you are related to me in any way, STOP READING. Seriously... stop. New rule here at 'Coffee with Kaydee' : family is not allowed to read my blog on Thursdays.

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Here we go.

deep breaths...

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(seriously Dad, stop reading)

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Little fact for y'all... women grow hair.

And as it was written (here on my blog) some sadistic bastard out there lots and lots of years ago decided that women shouldn't have hair in certain places and invented all sorts of cruel, painful ways to remove said hair.

One of these torturous methods requires molten wax pasted onto your body, strips of fabric rubbed over the molten wax, and then ripped off with (if you're lucky) just the first layer or two of skin and your hair ripped out by the roots.

FUN!

Some women go to the salon, but a few masochists wax at home.

I am a fan of going to the salon, but a few years back I decided to save some money and wax at home.

Smart and frugal! I know, I know... you guys are just so bummed out that you missed out on the awesomeness that is me... or not so much.

Moving on.

Legs are a breeze; same with the pits. Wait, the Marine doesn't like them being called pits... underarms... men!

It was the bikini line that was killer.

I was 19, living with my sister at the time and she had one teeny tiny little bathroom in the house, I had a piece of shit car, 2 dead end jobs, very little self esteem left, no education, and a loser boyfriend... self waxing seemed perfectly reasonable at the time.

What is really sad here is just how excited I was to try this little endeavor.

I gladly purchased the wax and strips, the kit came with tiny little bottles of remover and some type of stinky lotion. I nuked the wax to a nice skin scalding temperature, skipped to the bathroom, disrobed, and the wax-a-thon began.

Like I said, the legs and under-pits were a breeze... SO, naturally, I thought, "why not the *hoo hoo* area?" I managed to contort into an appropriate position to rip out hair while perched precariously on the edge of the bathtub and began.

Now, had I followed the directions on the stupid package, you might not get to read this great little tale that I have told *virtually* no one. See, the directions say to do one strip at a time. Me, being the genius that I am, decided to coat the entire hair afflicted area and apply the strips all at once. This way I could just rip rip rip and be done...

right?

...seemed reasonable...

...but oh so wrong.

It's not nice to laugh at people, you know.

Anyway

I assume the appropriate position, grasp the first strip, brace myself, and rip.

I'm sure people in the next county over heard me scream.

Swimming though a river of lava, rolling myself in broken glass, and then feeding my legs into a wood chipper would have been less painful.

I look down certain that I have completely ripped off my *hoo hoo*, I see that I have only removed MAYBE 1/4 of this 2 inch strip. There it dangled, mocking me, and without a bit of hair attached to it.

Nothing.

Not even a loose little hair that accidentally fell and became lodged in the wax.

NOTHING

Trying to be a big girl, I tried to pull again and I'm pretty sure I blacked out...

This is when I called in loser boyfriend. I tried to explain the situation to him through the locked bathroom door, but he would have nothing of it. He insisted on coming in and assessing the situation. After he stopped laughing... 10 minutes later... he reminds me to use the little bottle of wax remover.

Brilliant!

or not.

I think there was one tiny drop in there and I was in serious need of a vat of the remover. I asked... then begged... him to go to the store and get me a BIG bottle of the shit, but he refused. So there I was under the faucet with the hottest water I could stand trying to melt this wax off.

Of course it didn't work.

There I was crying, locked in the bathroom, trying my hardest to get this horrible stuff off of me when I realize that I really need to go to the store and get some remover. I beg the ex but he won't go... so I have to.

I very carefully put on clothes and developed the weirdest walk anyone has ever seen. Hey, I'd like to see you walk while covered in wax, strips, and now panties plastered into the mix. Not easy.

Now, here is where the piece of shit car comes in to play. See, this car was missing half of everything and the fly wheel had just decided to lose a tooth or two and the starter couldn't catch, blah blah blah... I hadn't gotten around to climbing under it and fixing it... so I had to push start the car.

Yes, after all I had been through and was going through, I had to get push start, by myself, my little piece of shit car AND not rip my *hoo hoo* off in the process. Somehow I managed.

Eventually I made it to the supply store, purchased the remover, and then spent a good 12 hours slowly removing wax from my crotch.

Nice

You know, I cannot figure out why I can go to a salon, have this done, and barely flinch... but attempts (yes plural, I've done this to myself twice) at home always end in tragedy.

I've told this story to a few people and have found that every person I told either had tried or knew of someone who had tried to self wax the *hoo hoo*... with similar results.

How many of y'all have tried self waxing?

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Hey family members that disregarded the warning...

Try to not think about this the next time we gather!

=)

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