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Ok, in another thread, I recently encouraged Cort Haus to post some of his Rock and Roll stories to liven the place up a bit. Here is me attempting to do my part as well...
My Hot Wax Story…
It was springtime, and with warm weather upon us, I was ready to try something new in the way of hair removal. So, on Easter weekend, an idea struck… I would have my first hot leg wax and be rid of shaving once and for all! I sat thinking of how I would have smooth legs for weeks on end. What could be better, right?
So, I called the salon where I get my pedicures done, asked if they had any appointments open for that evening, and left home quite content that I would be smooth as silk by nightfall. On my way out the door, my husband’s final words were, “Um, you have an appointment with a female waxer, right?” I rolled my eyes at him, and walked out the front door thinking to myself that I probably should have asked that question on the phone.
When I got to the salon, I was directed to “The Waxing Room”. It was good thing that I would be seeing a “Female Waxer”, as I wasn’t given a drape, or even given any privacy. She simply stood there and waited while I peeled off my Gap jeans and folded them as careful as a flag on a casket…all the while sealing my fate. So, as I lay on the “Waxing Table”, watching the kind woman prepare for battle, I realized for the first time that leg waxing might be an altogether different beast then the mere eyebrow waxing I am used to. The wax lady then asked me the age-old question, of “half leg, or whole leg” to which I replied “whole, of course, with an option to add a bikini wax at the end”.
So, the wax lady got to work, and dipped something that resembled a tongue depressor (waxing stick), into something that resembled a pot of honey (wax), and then glided the honey glazed stick over my lower right leg. On go the long, cloth strips, and without any notice whatsoever, she yanks off a 10-inch piece of cloth in one fell swoop. Nothing but silence from me. I am too shocked for words…even shocking words. Before I have a chance to recover, she has ripped off two more lengths of cloth, and starts applying the amber goop to the rest of my calf. Oh my God. It hurt so badly. And I told her so. I am sure she felt compassion for me beneath her giggles, but we both knew there was no turning back now.
Somehow, I got through the next 15 minutes by clamping my hand over my mouth and breathing (which turns out not to work so well unless you breathe through your nose). The pain was terrible, the anticipation was worse, and I knew then that I could not take much more.
“Good news”, she says. “The fronts of your lower legs are all done!” That’s it? That is as far as we have gotten? She asks me to turn over so that she may proceed with the backs of my lower legs. I am up on my elbows and rolling over before I register how dizzy I am. Dizzy with the bloody pain of it! “Ok, wait”, I tell her. I needed a minute to come up with a plan. A plan to get me through this next phase without throwing up. I reach into my handbag, pull out my cell phone, and call home. My husband answers the phone. I proceed to tell him about my precarious circumstances, and explain the god-awful pain of it. And, do you know what? Not two sentences into my plea for help, he comes back with, “didn’t you know that getting your legs waxed would hurt?” I calmly said goodbye, hung up, and searched through my contact list to see who else might be a bit more sympathetic to my cause. My cousin! I will call my cousin Nicole. She is 23 and goes in for waxing every other month it seems. No matter that she lives in Santa Monica, California…Hell, that’s what cell phones are for!
Somewhere in the background, I realize that the wax lady has begun her second phase of attack. I am on my stomach, with the ringing phone to my ear, when my cousin, who is now my most certain best friend, answers the line. This is the conversation that the waxing lady overheard… “Nicole! It’s Leanna! Hi! Oh my God! I am getting my legs waxed right now and it is (OUCH!) so freakin’ painful! Yes, I am on the (OUCH!) table right now, getting my legs waxed! Nic, are you there? I can hardly hear you! Where are you? In Boston? On the subway? Oh yeah, I forgot you were out of town this weekend…. Ok, just tell me, before the call gets dropped, how can you bloody stand it? How do you do this to yourself…? What? You have never (OUCH!) had a leg wax? You only get Brazilian waxes? Leg waxing is too painful?”
Now, what the wax lady doesn’t hear is Nicole telling me that I will get through it, and that the first time is always the worst when it comes to waxing (like there is going to be a second time???) and to just breathe deeply in between my (OUCH!) muffled yelps of pain. So, I hang up the phone, and spend the next 10 minutes in agony. “Ok”, she says, “Your lower legs are all finished,” the wax lady tells me, “are you ready for me to start with the upper leg?” As I slowly turn over, onto my back again, our eyes meet. And although no words are exchanged, she comes up with a solution for me…my light at the end of the tunnel. She reaches out and pats my thigh, and says to me, “Oh, we can’t do this part today – there is not enough needing to be waxed!” “And besides”, she says, “This area hurts much, much worse than the lower leg”. I am thinking to myself how thankful I am to not have to continue, when she begins her second round of questions. “So”, she says, “ how about the bikini wax? Do you want a bikini wax still? I can do a nice one for you? Would you like a nice heart shape? I do a nice heart shape for your husband, if you like…” and on and on she goes, never noticing that I am shaking my head no…. As in, “no flippin’ way…that will not be happening today... I don’t even like hearts very much, so please, put the wax away”... “Besides”, I am thinking, “I am just not that into you”
My Hot Wax Story…
It was springtime, and with warm weather upon us, I was ready to try something new in the way of hair removal. So, on Easter weekend, an idea struck… I would have my first hot leg wax and be rid of shaving once and for all! I sat thinking of how I would have smooth legs for weeks on end. What could be better, right?
So, I called the salon where I get my pedicures done, asked if they had any appointments open for that evening, and left home quite content that I would be smooth as silk by nightfall. On my way out the door, my husband’s final words were, “Um, you have an appointment with a female waxer, right?” I rolled my eyes at him, and walked out the front door thinking to myself that I probably should have asked that question on the phone.
When I got to the salon, I was directed to “The Waxing Room”. It was good thing that I would be seeing a “Female Waxer”, as I wasn’t given a drape, or even given any privacy. She simply stood there and waited while I peeled off my Gap jeans and folded them as careful as a flag on a casket…all the while sealing my fate. So, as I lay on the “Waxing Table”, watching the kind woman prepare for battle, I realized for the first time that leg waxing might be an altogether different beast then the mere eyebrow waxing I am used to. The wax lady then asked me the age-old question, of “half leg, or whole leg” to which I replied “whole, of course, with an option to add a bikini wax at the end”.
So, the wax lady got to work, and dipped something that resembled a tongue depressor (waxing stick), into something that resembled a pot of honey (wax), and then glided the honey glazed stick over my lower right leg. On go the long, cloth strips, and without any notice whatsoever, she yanks off a 10-inch piece of cloth in one fell swoop. Nothing but silence from me. I am too shocked for words…even shocking words. Before I have a chance to recover, she has ripped off two more lengths of cloth, and starts applying the amber goop to the rest of my calf. Oh my God. It hurt so badly. And I told her so. I am sure she felt compassion for me beneath her giggles, but we both knew there was no turning back now.
Somehow, I got through the next 15 minutes by clamping my hand over my mouth and breathing (which turns out not to work so well unless you breathe through your nose). The pain was terrible, the anticipation was worse, and I knew then that I could not take much more.
“Good news”, she says. “The fronts of your lower legs are all done!” That’s it? That is as far as we have gotten? She asks me to turn over so that she may proceed with the backs of my lower legs. I am up on my elbows and rolling over before I register how dizzy I am. Dizzy with the bloody pain of it! “Ok, wait”, I tell her. I needed a minute to come up with a plan. A plan to get me through this next phase without throwing up. I reach into my handbag, pull out my cell phone, and call home. My husband answers the phone. I proceed to tell him about my precarious circumstances, and explain the god-awful pain of it. And, do you know what? Not two sentences into my plea for help, he comes back with, “didn’t you know that getting your legs waxed would hurt?” I calmly said goodbye, hung up, and searched through my contact list to see who else might be a bit more sympathetic to my cause. My cousin! I will call my cousin Nicole. She is 23 and goes in for waxing every other month it seems. No matter that she lives in Santa Monica, California…Hell, that’s what cell phones are for!
Somewhere in the background, I realize that the wax lady has begun her second phase of attack. I am on my stomach, with the ringing phone to my ear, when my cousin, who is now my most certain best friend, answers the line. This is the conversation that the waxing lady overheard… “Nicole! It’s Leanna! Hi! Oh my God! I am getting my legs waxed right now and it is (OUCH!) so freakin’ painful! Yes, I am on the (OUCH!) table right now, getting my legs waxed! Nic, are you there? I can hardly hear you! Where are you? In Boston? On the subway? Oh yeah, I forgot you were out of town this weekend…. Ok, just tell me, before the call gets dropped, how can you bloody stand it? How do you do this to yourself…? What? You have never (OUCH!) had a leg wax? You only get Brazilian waxes? Leg waxing is too painful?”
Now, what the wax lady doesn’t hear is Nicole telling me that I will get through it, and that the first time is always the worst when it comes to waxing (like there is going to be a second time???) and to just breathe deeply in between my (OUCH!) muffled yelps of pain. So, I hang up the phone, and spend the next 10 minutes in agony. “Ok”, she says, “Your lower legs are all finished,” the wax lady tells me, “are you ready for me to start with the upper leg?” As I slowly turn over, onto my back again, our eyes meet. And although no words are exchanged, she comes up with a solution for me…my light at the end of the tunnel. She reaches out and pats my thigh, and says to me, “Oh, we can’t do this part today – there is not enough needing to be waxed!” “And besides”, she says, “This area hurts much, much worse than the lower leg”. I am thinking to myself how thankful I am to not have to continue, when she begins her second round of questions. “So”, she says, “ how about the bikini wax? Do you want a bikini wax still? I can do a nice one for you? Would you like a nice heart shape? I do a nice heart shape for your husband, if you like…” and on and on she goes, never noticing that I am shaking my head no…. As in, “no flippin’ way…that will not be happening today... I don’t even like hearts very much, so please, put the wax away”... “Besides”, I am thinking, “I am just not that into you”
Did your husband manage to find anything sympathetic to say by the time you got back? And the big question (so that posters wives and girlfriends can learn from your experience) - was it worth it?
I reminds me of the hotwax scene in the "Forty year old virgin". 
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