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  1. #1
    pph Expert! Gordon's Avatar
    Join Date
    January 18th, 2005
    Edmonton Canada
    For women only this for a time when you can read this and experience it vicariously. very funny.

    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 a while. 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


    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.
    One day parasites and their ilk will be made illegal, I bet a few Lawyers will be pissed off when the day comes.
    Mr. Spitzer is fetching it nearer


  2. #2
    Pimp Duck popdawg's Avatar
    Join Date
    January 18th, 2005
    Take off eh?
    Actually on the topic of women, I should forward this warning sent by my aunt.

    For Women Only: Beware - New Scam

    This new scam is being pulled mainly on older women. What happens is that when you stop for a red light, a young nude man comes up and pretends to be washing your windshield. While he is doing this another person opens your back door and steals anything in the car.
    They are very good at this. They got me several times Friday and 5 times Saturday. I wasn't able to find them on Sunday
    Been away, now I'm back. Not as much, but I'm back & starting from scratch. Where I was, was fantastic. Where I am now, less so. Things have changed, become harder. So have I. Game ON!!!

  3. #3
    Affiliate Manager inflatemouse's Avatar
    Join Date
    February 28th, 2005
    I can't hardly contain my desire to also remember IcyHot is not meant for hamstring or groin injuries.

  4. #4
    Resident Genius and Staunch Capitalist Leader's Avatar
    Join Date
    January 18th, 2005
    Brrr...funny, but it gives me chills that anyone would actually consider doing that (waxing) to themselves.
    I'll take the "lowly" shaver...I wouldn't consider *ripping out* ANY of my hairs, from anywhere, no way!
    There is no knowledge that is not power. ~Hemingway

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