This entry comes from Brigit as a newcomer to our Living Out Loud project. In addition to being a talented artist, she's a riot. --------- I like to write especially about things that are not usually spoken of but really should be. You'd think with so very many women's magazines telling us every little beauty thing monthly that they would not leave out the really important stuff. For example, this is my version of what they should tell women about the Hair Waxing experience:
Waxing is one way to remove unwanted body hair (well, except for the times when you actually did want the hair - like the other half of my eyebrow) that so damages the follicle that the only thing that can grow back is a baby fine peach fuzz....at least that is the way it's working on my body.
No more razors, jells, razor burn, lotions, weird chemicals, cuts, toting the stuff while traveling and having it confiscated out of your carry on but the airport 'authorities'... that's right, like your going to high jack a plane with a Venus razor or some Nair. Perhaps, per the Venus advertisement, they imagine you might 'release the goddess within' and that goddess might be Medusa or something evil and take over the plane. Who knows? No doubt there is a whole separate rant about airline carry-on searches brewing within me. I travel a lot.
Anyway, I've been gifted with a trip to a day spa and will experience my first ever waxing… which seems like I will ultimately save a lot of money by NOT needing a variety of product to deal with hair removal. I think 'hmmmm - waxing, let's try it'. So what was there to lose besides a bunch of unwanted hair? Right?
The spa is beautiful. They bring you citrusy water or a fruit smoothie. There are plates of sweet or savory munchies to tempt you. Large overstuffed furniture to lounge in while waiting or afterward while recovering and preparing yourself to leave this alcove of peace and serenity to face the busy world again. Fountains trickle and soothing music plays while you shed your clothes and don an incredibly thick, soft white terry robe. It is all soooo good!
Yup - here to be pampered -that's me.
My name is called and I am escorted to a small room. I tell the lovely, very pretty, very young lady what I want done and yes, that I am a first timer. "No problem." she smiles "We'll start with the armpits first." Grrrreeaaat.
So first goes on the cleanser to remove any unwanted body oils and residuals of other products. Makes sense and feels nice. Next there is powder to protect the skin... that a little worrisome, what are we protecting my skin from?... but feels nice and smells good. The wax - which is warm and honey smelling, glides on with a roller thingie. Kind of a nice feeling actually. Then there is a paper strip that is laid on the wax and then there is rubbing until the wax cools. All good so far. Until... I am asked to place my hand 'here' and help pull the skin tight. No problem. Then it happens... RIP - in one fell swoop.
There was an instantaneous snatching of that paper strip in the opposite direction of the hair growth that left me gasping. PAIN - can you say PAIN??? Upon recovery a whole bunch of language comes streaming out of my mouth. She never even slowed - the next paper was quickly smoothed on and ripped off just as the first.
And so it went. The legs were easier and didn't bleed as much. Yup. Little dots of blood seeped from each follicle on my arm pits. I walked around for the rest of the day and all the next with my upper arms held out from my body like I was Arnold. Good thing I heal fast. The bikini line.... well, now, my oh my..... there was apparently not enough powder because I actually lost some skin. Again, good thing I heal fast. The eyebrows were nothing after all of this except that I am now missing part of one.
It was certainly an experience. I understand now that the robes are white because it is easier to bleach the blood out of them. And the lounge is there so you can recover enough to accept the idea of actually putting clothes back on over all the bright red oozing raw bits while you are getting your breath back. And yes, please, have a glass of water made all pretty and tasty with the orange and lemon slices floating to settle your nausea while, ideally, your blood pressure is coming back into the range of normal.
The effect afterwards however is oh-so-very worth it. There is no stubble. Nothing much of anything for almost 8 weeks. What hair actually survives and tries to grow back is baby fine and on me, not particularly visible. Believe it or not... I can and will continue to do this to myself. It does get easier as the roots are less and less attached somehow.
Yep, I save the $100 and buy a kit from the Wal-Mart. $8 every 6 months and I’m good. I do still occasionally splurge and allow a ‘professional’ to do it but all-in-all doing it myself is just fine…. Though I do need help with my armpits. If I had started doing this at 18 I'd likely not have anything to deal with at this point in my life. So, all in all it was worth the initial shock and pain but really you'd think any one of the many beauty magazines would warn a girl of the truth of the matter. I am thinking that Happy Hour might be the prefect prep for a first timer.