As promised, I'm continuing to put the "T" in TMI here at the OOBH! This one's a doozy, and it goes out to aaaaaaaaaall the ladies.
I've mentioned that I'm leaving tomorrow for a family vacation to America's Wang, yes? I've been running around like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off this week, trying to get all of my work done and get everything purchased and ready for the trip. Yesterday was no different; I crammed some work into the morning hours and then scooted up to Concord to meet
Mala for what was supposed to be a little pre-vacay pampering. By that, I mean I had to get my hooves sanded and painted and have a little wax on/wax off action.
We went to a Vietnamese nail/waxing place that we've been to many times before, and Mala has had the waxing done there but I had not. I've only been to the chi-chi American spas.
Since I've been so rushed I didn't have time to do my homework for my writing class, so instead of enjoying the vibrating chair and leg massage I was scribbling on my notepad. After the mani/pedi they whisked me out back to the
broom closet torture chamber, and a tiny woman arrived shortly after and rolled up her sleeves, assessing my rolled-up pant legs and still-tacky nail polish.
Muttering in Vietnamese, she tsked over my nails and began unbuttoning my shirt before she'd even said hello. Before I knew what was happening, she had me lying down and she was leaning her full tiny bod over me, peering at my armpits. She was quick and I have to say, the underarms didn't hurt much at all! I was mentally patting myself on the back for having such a high thresh hold for pain when she went for the button of my jeans faster than a prom date.
As I mentioned earlier, I've only been to the salons for this procedure, and here in the States we maintain some sort of modesty at all times. They give you the white terry cloth wrap and a pair of little paper panties to wear, they wear rubber gloves, and they provide a soothing, aromatic environment.
Not so much here at Princess Nails. My nails were still not quite dry so she peeled off my jeans AND underwear in one swift movement, leaving me lying on the table wearing nothing but my bra. I stifled a giggle; I mean, this is absurd, already! I'm no prude but still - lying there mostly naked while a woman examined my lady bits is not something I do everyday.
She stood over me, a tongue depressor dripping with molten yellow wax poised above my crotch, and I stopped her with a wave of my hand and said, "Not all off, okay? Leave this much." I gestured with my hands, indicating which part of my muff I'd like to preserve.
"Ah yes, okay!" She said cheerfully, and I lay back as she started smearing the wax on me.
RRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPPPPPP!I winced, but this wasn't my first time at the rodeo so I kept silent. I'm tough. I can handle a bikini wax!
RRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIPPPPPP!Wait a minute. That felt like a lot, and it felt like it was
right across the top. I glanced down and confirmed it - she had removed everything on the right side and middle. Inside I started to panic.
What if she misunderstood me? What if she gave me a Hitler 'stache? What the hell was going on down there?!I didn't say anything because hey, you don't piss off the woman wielding hot wax, now do you? She started on the other side and I thought, well, I have to be even, so maybe it's not as bad as I thought.
It was worse. When I finally ventured another look, I realized I was heading straight into Brazilian territory whether I liked it or not, but it was far too late to go back now. However, if I'd known that she was just getting warmed up, I would have put on the brakes....
I don't think I'm being overly-dramatic when I say that the next 30 minutes or so were probably the most embarrassing and painful of my life, and I say this after having gone through cancer treatment
and having two babies. This woman got ALL up in my bidness. She was literally pulling me apart and smearing wax in all the nooks & crannies, then ripping it off. Twice, I actually yelped involuntarily ("AAAHHHH, KELLY CLARKSON!") and teared up. It hurt like a mofo!
I've been having annual gyno exams since my teens and this was WAY more embarrassing. She put her face right down there and muttered in Vietnamese while she hunted down every stray follicle. She instructed me to hold my own skin taut (not unusual) and had me spread eagle.
Twice, someone tried to enter the room while I was prostrate and exposed.
TWICE.
Finally she was satisfied and I was near tears. After all of that, the leg waxing felt like a walk in the park! I've never felt more relieved than when she was finished. As I swung my legs over the side of the table and started peeling the paper table cover off of my sticky self, she held up a tiny hand and indicated in her broken English that I should assume the position.
Are you fucking kidding me?!!Yes, one final insult before she would let me leave - she had me bend over the table and hold my bum cheeks. You can imagine what happened next.
When I left I was a sticky, injured mess. As soon as I got back to where Mala was waiting I told her, wide-eyed, what horrors I had endured. She immediately took me to lunch where I had two giant alcoholic beverages, but as we ran errands that afternoon I was a bit of a wreck! The worst part was that we had our class that evening and I wasn't able to get home to slather myself with baby oil and then take a hot shower until after 9 PM.
No, actually, the worst part is that now I'm rocking the porn star/pre-adolescent look, and I am not a fan.
The moral of this story: make sure your waxer speaks ENGLISH before turning her loose on your nether regions!!
