Today my Monday memories story is all about beauty gone wrong. I am talking about bikini waxing…in my twenties. I bought a do it yourself kit. All I can say is: Do not try this at home!
Some things are better left to professionals. Like bikini waxing. Not that I would know for sure because all I have experienced is the do it yourself variety which really should say, “At home torture device that doesn’t really work” on the box. I thought I was being thrifty and smart. It turns out I was being incredibly stupid and setting my money on fire…not to mention my skin. I still tear up a little when I think about it. The pain! The pain! (That’s a little throwback joke to that show about the island with magic…what was it called?)
At home waxing kits come with wax and cloth strips. Well, at least they did back then, when the dinosaurs were still alive and Friends was probably the most popular show on television. I was supposed to heat the wax, apply it, put a cloth on the wax, let it cool, and then rip it off. Ouch! The box also said that it only stung a little (liars!), but I should have paid more attention to all of the emergency numbers listed. Boxes covered with emergency numbers can only mean one thing: It’s all going to go very, very wrong at home today.
What happened instead was the stuff horror movies are made of. There is a reason people go to school to learn how to do these things. They are not easy to do. These waxing kits might even be the work of Satan himself. Or, obviously, a man. I am very confident they were designed by a man. I just like to throw Satan out there for dramatic effect. Also, I am pretty sure there is a lot of waxing going on in hell (If hell exists outside of your own personal bathroom and a do it yourself waxing kit).
Anyway, what really happened was I applied the slightly too hot wax, danced around from the pain, stuck the cloth on, let it cool and then ripped the cloth off. Just the cloth. The wax was still there, completely attached to my skin. All I managed to do was rip at the hair and skin. It was like having two to three hairs pulled really hard. Then I cried and rolled around on the floor in pain. I remember thinking people who got bikini waxes were likely insane or loved pain, or, at the very least, loved their bikini way, way too much. Then I wondered how I was going to remove the wax from my hands, my body, the water faucet, the light switch, the mirror…you get the picture.
Panic started to set in. The wax was sort of sticky and gummy because how can it really cool down when it is attached to warm skin? What I really needed was a walk in freezer. I knew I did not want to rip the wax off anymore because, well, it hurt. It hurt like hell. It’s the kind of thing they should offer epidurals for. I now never trust anyone (or any box) who says, “It only hurts a little.” This episode with the wax is probably the number one reason I have no interest in getting a tattoo (that and I change my mind too often). The only chance I had for wax removal was to keep warming it up and attempting to scrape it off. I did this for hours. I didn’t get much off.
Luckily, I was home alone so nobody was banging on the bathroom door demanding to get inside or demanding to know what was going on in there. I cried through the entire thing. I never got all of the wax off. It had to wear off by itself. I was like a human candle for days. I certainly didn’t wear any bikinis. I am pretty confident that there is probably still wax stuck to those old bathroom fixtures to this very day. It did not go well at all.
That was the last time I bought a do it yourself waxing kit. I also don’t buy home perming kits or self tanner. None of that stuff ends well. Anyway, if you ever have the urge to get a bikini wax consider yourself warned: Do not do this at home!
Want to read some other Monday Memories stories about beauty gone wrong? Stop by Quirky Chrissy (the brain child behind this operation) or First Time Mom and Dad and find out about the trauma they have endured for beauty.