Wax and Wail

Today’s overshare…I’m traumatised! Every once in a while I get it into my head to get a bikini wax. I remembered today why it’s only every once in a while. I’m a broken remnant of a woman.

Sooooo as stated above I may have slightly delayed a couple of appointments to tidy up the ‘lady garden’ and as I’m starting swimming lessons next week I figured I’d best get that sorted stat. My 1st mistake

I went to a reputable establishment in the city centre which as it turns out may or may not be a secret recruitment agency for sadists, fascists and dominatrixes…and I met the queen! My 2nd mistake.

So setting the scene. 

Camera pans in to me, in a cubicle with a very flimsy curtain, pants off, legs akimbo and feeling quite sorry for the lady who is about to arrive for the career choices she made in having to deal with hairy punanis all day.

With her first sentence upon entering my sympathy wavered. 

(Eastern European accent) “This too long I need to trim. When did you last wax?’

Me mumbling the answer “shejfvskf”

So she gets out the weed whacker and goes to town on me. I stayed on the bed..mistake number 3 ladies and gentlemen mistake number bloody 3

She brings out the big guns..the wax..now we have all been expecting the wax right? I mean it’s in the title and is the theme so duh! Except people WE were not expecting wax made by killers bees in the depths of hell with added flame grilling .THAT SHIT BURNT.

Me ‘Umm em that’s actually a bit hot sorry’. She-bitch-from-hell “NO it is not it’s practically cold’ oh ok I’ll lie back down and grit my teeth and think of…’holy shit boiling vats of oil or red hot poker’s’

 Me “No really that’s a bit hot” Big impatient sigh ” It’s not”. ..this happened 4 times after which she told me I was a bit sensitive to temperature. UM NO I’m sensitive to people trying to remove skin from my body through chemical experimentation
By the time she’d managed to extract 80% of the hair (2 hrs later) I was praying to God that I could just keep my clitoris attached..Cause duh that’s the bloody good bit!

At the end when she plucks the remaining petrified hairs she then turns to me and says well what do you think…oh God SO many things I think soo many things.

I think it looks like a plucked turkey. 

I think I’d rather never look at it again.

 I think I got 2 bloody fillings last week which were MEDICALLY NECESSARY and they gave me an anaesthetic and asked 4 times if I wanted a break or some water. 

I think why the fuck am I paying €40 to a sadist to rip the hair out of my vajayjay by the roots while judging me for the jungle that has grown and the fact that I can’t handle being given 3rd degree burns in extremely sensitive areas that an ambulance may need to be called to help with. Yes I’m PAYING for this PRIVILEGE

 I’m thinking sweet love of God nobody ever sees it and I’m certainly never looking at it again so why the fuck am I torturing myself. 

I’m thinking how in the world am I supposed to walk never mind walk back to work!

I’m thinking I’m never doing this again. 

So with that in mind I pulled on my clothes with quiet dignity, some whimpering and yeah alright a few tears, and hobbled out to pay the bill never to darken those doors again. That’s right I think to myself stick to your guns.

I get out to pay and the receptionist says I talked to Cerberus and she told me 5 weeks no later so here’s your appointment.

Now Satan’s lover may have ‘mentioned’ it would be a good idea to return in 5 weeks but she couldn’t make me right? It’s not like she could hunt me down pin me down and wax me against my will right? Right?

Yeah I’m too scared to find out… 5 weeks from now I’ll be back cowering on that bed legs in the air begging for mercy and the salvation of my clitoris!

I’m headed home to an icepack..

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