After one whole hairy month, I was about to jump out of my own skin. So, with three days until Chile, today was “waxing day.” I envisioned myself wearing a slim white terry cloth outfit, sitting in a pale pink tiled bathroom with creamy vanilla candles lit and a soothing bubble bath awaiting my hairless legs. I would spread warm wax in a neat, even, striped pattern, peel them back one by one, and – ta da! – soft, glowing, hairless skin.
This fantasy was ill-fated from the “once upon a time.” I own zero articles of terry cloth clothing. Also, my bathroom is navy blue. The decomposing chemical stench of the wax overwhelmed the one pitiful candle I lit. After three and a half minutes in the microwave, the wax was not so much warm as it was scalding. The sporadic snapping and popping noises led me to believe that it was actually boiling. There was no pattern to the spreading of the wax – it was a goopy, orange colored, foul smelling mess. And actually pulling it off? Painful like you would not imagine. I was prepared to hold my breath when it stung, but i did not expect the blood and tears!
So, you would think that all the misery would be worth it. But no. my skin is still itchy, and paler than I remember. It’s the opposite of soft, and I don’t know how I’m going to rub off the clumpy patches and wax and hair that are still stuck all over me.
And after all that, we’re out of bubble bath.
Quote of the day: “What happens when the future has come and gone?” Robert Half
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