Text 1806, 111 rader
Skriven 2005-04-24 11:57:12 av DAVE COBLE (1:123/140)
Ärende: Women
=============
I warn you ahead of time so to the bathroom before you read this.  I
can't remember the last time I laughed so darn hard. This is Hilarious -
for Women Only!


A friend sent me this - damn near died laughing.  And John wonders why I
pay the girl at Eveline Charles to do the waxing for me!  The first
thing you should know is that hair removal is not my friend. The
particular talent of removing unwanted hair has eluded me.

All methods have tricked me with their promises of easy, painless
removal-the Epilady, the standard razor, the scissors, the Nair, the
EpilStop,and now ....  The Wax.

My night began as any other normal weekday night .I came home from work,
fixed dinner for my son and we played for awhile.  I then had the thought
that would ring painfully in my mind for the next couple hours: "maybe I
should use that wax in my medicine cabinet".

I set up my boy with a video and head to the site of my demise, um, I mean
bathroom.  It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot
wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them apart, press it
on your leg (or wherever) and ignore the frantically rising crescendo of
string instruments in the background.

No muss, no fuss.  How hard can this be?  I mean, I'm not the girly-est of
girls but I'm mechanically inclined so maybe I can figure out how this
works.  You'd think.  So I pull one of the thin strips out.  It's two
strips facing each other,stuck together.  I'm supposed to rub it in my hand
to warm and soften the wax (I'm guessing).  I go one better. I pull out the
hair dryer and heat the SOB to ten thousand degrees.

Cold wax, my ass.  (Oh, how that phrase will come back to haunt me.) I lay
the strip across my thigh.  I hold the skin around it and pull.  OK, so it
wasn't the best feeling in the world, but it wasn't bad.  I can do this!
Hair removal no longer eludes me!  I am Sheera, fighter of all wayward body
hair and smooth skin extraordinaire!

With my next wax strip, I move north. After checking on my son and
verifying that he was, in fact, becoming one with Bear and learning all
about smells, I sneak into the bathroom for The Ultimate Hair Fighting
Championship.  I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.  Using
the same procedure, I then apply the wax strip across the right side on my
bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching up into
the inside of the right ass cheek.  (Yeah, it was a long strip.) I inhale
deeply.  I brace myself.  RRRIIIIPPP!!!!  I'm blind! Blind from the pain!

Vision returning.  Oh crap.  I've managed to pull off half an inch of the
strip.  Another deep breath.  And RIIIP! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed?
Do I hear crashing drums?  OK, coming back to normal again.  I want to see
my trophy - my wax covered pelt that caused me so much agony.  I want to
revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair.  I hold the wax strip
like an Olympic gold medallist.  But why is there no hair on it?  Why is
the wax mostly gone?

Where could the wax go, if not on the strip?  Slowly, I eased my head down,
my foot still perched on the toilet.  I see hair - the hair that should be
on the strip.  I touch.  I feel.  I am touching wax.  I look to the ceiling
and silently shout "nooooooo!!" And realize I have just begun living my own
personal version of The Tar Baby.  I peel my fingers off the softest, most
sensitive part of my body that is now covered in cold wax and matted hair,
and make the next big mistake - up until this point, you'll remember, I've
had my foot on the toilet.

I know I need to move, to do something.  So I put my foot down on the
floor.  And then I hear the slamming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut.
Ass?  Sealed shut.  A little voice in my head says "I hope you don't have
to shit anytime soon.  Your head just might pop off."

I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to figure out what I
should do next.  Hot water! Hot water melts wax!  I'll run the hottest
water I can stand and get in - the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it
away, right? Wrong.  I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than
is used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment.  And I
sit.

Now the only thing worse than having your goodies glued together is having
them glued together and then glued to the bottom of a tub.  In scalding hot
water.  Which, by the way, does not melt the cold wax.  So now I'm stuck to
the tub.  I call my friend, C, because she once dropped out of beauty
school so surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off
skin.

It's never good to start a conversation with "So my ass and pussy are stuck
to the tub.  She doesn't have a trick.  She does her best to suppress
laughter.  She wants to know exactly where the wax is on the ass "Are we
talking cheek or hole, here?" she asks.  She isn't even trying to hide the
giggles now.  I give her the run-down of the entire night.

She tells me to call the number on the side of the box, but to have a good
cover story for where the wax actually is.  You know that if we were
working the help line at XX Wax Co. and somebody called with their entire
crack sealed shut we'd just put them on hold then record the conversation
for everyone we know.  You're going to end up on a radio show or the
Internet if you tell them the truth.

While we go through various solutions, I resort to scraping the wax off
with a razor. Boy, nothing feels better to the girly goodies than covering
them in wax, sticking them to a tub in super hot water and THEN dry shaving
the sticky wax off! In the middle of the conversation (which has
inexplicably turned to other subjects!) I find the little, beautiful saving
grace that is the lotion provided with wax to remove the excess.  I rub
some in and start screaming "It's working!  It's working!"

I get hearty congratulations from C and we hang up.  I successfully remove
all the wax and notice, to my dismay, that the hair is still there.  So I
shaved the damned stuff off.  Hell, I was numb by that point anyway.  And
then I put the box of wax back in my medicine cabinet.  Never know when a
moustache might start to come in. Tonight, I attempt hair dying.
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