Thursday, February 9, 2012

Beauty Fucking Hurts!

First I would like to apologize to my father and brothers; if you come across this post, please do not try to visualize the following story. You have been warned!

I have been losing some weight lately and am feeling a little better about myself. Full disclosure though, I am only getting thinner because I have had my band tightened not because I have will power or anything. For those of you who don’t know, I had lap-band surgery about four years ago and failed miserably at it. I think I might be the only person who gained weight from the surgery. Well it is a new year and I am officially a medically-controlled anorexic and bulimic now so the weight is starting to come off. Everyone knows when the weight starts coming off you start feeling a little better about yourself. When you start feeling better about yourself you get a sense of style, start wearing makeup again, and shave more than once a month. I have always been interested in getting waxed because then I wouldn’t have to shave so often and being as smooth as a Barbie doll is what we girls shoot for…I guess?!

Last week I was having a conversation with my girlfriend about shaving and waxing and she mentioned she used to get waxed professionally, but it was like $60 every time she went. She found a wax that the professionals use and decided to give it a shot in the privacy of her own home. She described the process very well and did say that it was messy to use, but that didn’t scare me away. If girls are ripping their pubic hairs out with the assistance of hot wax, a popsicle stick, and a vagina mirror, I want in! I have always wanted to be a girly girl, but all my attempts have gone over like a fucking turd in a punch bowl. This experience my friends, was no different than any of my other attempts.

I followed all the preparation directions.
  1.  Heat wax, check. 
  2. Stir wax, check. 
  3. Smear wax all over hairy area like you are frosting a cupcake, check. The directions did not call for you to act like you were frosting a cupcake, but I am fat girl and I have been drinking my dinner for the past week and thinking about cupcakes made this ok for me.
  4. Let wax dry and cool, check. 
  5. Convince husband to rip off wax and promise you will not beat, stab, or divorce if it doesn’t go well, check.

And there I lay like a goddamn toddler getting ready for bath time. Only a shirt on, no pants and wax caked on my thighs and lady parts. I took a deep breath and gave Mark the go ahead to rip, hopefully in one fell swoop. And here is where the plan falls to shit. It didn't come off in one fell swoop, it came off in what seems like fifty fucking fell swoops and left sticky, gummy little pieces behind. There I was with my crotch looking like it decided to fall asleep with gum in its mouth and now the gum is stuck in its hair. How the FUCK am I going to fix this? “I should stand up to fix this, that’s what I will do; get a better view.” News flash, standing up only makes it all stick together and then you have to convince your fat to release the hostage that is your vagina without bringing tears to your eyes again. I imagine, for men, it is the equivalent of having your balls super glued to your leg.

At this point, honestly, I felt like I was going to pass out. I got in the shower and had to shave it all, everything, just to get the goddamn little pieces of wax off. What was the point of all that, I

still ended up shaving and could have skipped that humiliating, painful attempt at being a girly girl. Fucking beauty…it hurts!