Waxing . . . Remember this is written by a female and NOT a personal experience :lol:

My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids.
I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours:

'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet.'

So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom.
It was one of those 'cold wax' kits.
No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off.

No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.


So I pull one of the thin strips out.
Its two strips facing each other stuck together.
Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1,000 degrees.

('Cold wax, yeah...right!') I lay the strip across my thigh.
Hold the skin around it tight and pull.
It works!

OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad.
I can do this!

Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.

With my next wax strip I move north.
After checking on the kids, I sneak back 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 apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my
hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip).
I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!

I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!.....OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!

Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip.

CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is spinning and spotted.
I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...must stay conscious.
Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.

I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it.
I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair.
I hold up the strip! There's no hair on it.

Where is the hair???

Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet.
I see the hair.
The hair that should be on the strip...it's not! I touch.
I am touching wax.

I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair.

Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped up on the toilet?

I know I need to do something.
So I put my foot down.


I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself
'Please don't let me get the urge to poop.
My head may pop off!'

What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!!
I'll run the hottest water I can stand into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???


I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment -
I sit.

Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and
then glued to the bottom of the tub...in scalding hot water.

Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.
So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!!

God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!

I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone.

It's a very good conversation starter......
'So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!'

There is a slight pause.

She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located, 'Are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?'

She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests
I call the number on the side of the box.

YEAH!!!!! Right!!

I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through various solutions.
I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor

Nothing feels better than to have your girliegoodies covered in wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in
super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!!

By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.

My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax.
What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and.

OH MY GOD!!!!!!!

The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend.
Its sooo painful, but I really don't care.

'IT WORKS!! It works!!'
I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up.

I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....

So I recklessly shave it off.
Heck, I'm numb by now.
Nothing hurts.
I could have amputated my own leg at this point.

Next week I'm going to try hair color
Very funny. Laughed so hard had tears.
CountryGirl02 wrote: Very funny. Laughed so hard had tears.
That was hilarious :!: :!: :lol:
A joke on similiar lines about a lady visiting a gynaecologist:-

I was due for an appointment with the gynecologist later in the week. Early one
morning, I received a call from the doctor's office to tell me that I had been
rescheduled for that morning at 9:30 am. I had only just packed everyone off to
work and school, and it was already around 8:45 am. The trip to his office took
about 35 minutes, so I didn't have any time to spare.

As most women do, I like to take a little extra effort over hygiene when making
such visits, but this time I wasn't going to be able to make the full effort.
So, I rushed upstairs, threw off my pajamas, wet the washcloth that was sitting
next to the sink, and gave myself a quick wash in 'that area' to make sure I was
at least presentable. I threw the washcloth in the clothes basket, donned some
clothes, hopped in the car and raced to my appointment.

I was in the waiting room for only a few minutes when I was called in. Knowing
the procedure, as I'm sure you do, I hopped up on the table, looked over at the
other side of the room and pretended that I was in Paris or some other place a
million miles away. I was a little surprised when the doctor said, 'My, we have
made an extra effort this morning, haven't we?'

I didn't respond.

After the appointment, I heaved a sigh of relief and went home.. The rest of the
day was normal ... some shopping, cleaning, cooking.

After school when my 6-year-old daughter was playing, she called out from the
bathroom, 'Mommy, where's my washcloth?'

I told her to get another one from the cupboard.

She replied, 'No, I need the one that was here by the sink, it had all my
glitter and sparkles saved inside it.'

I'm never going back to that doctor........Ever.
Nice one Graham.!
Thanks for the great laughs gentlemen :lol: What a wonderful welcome to the humour forum!
That is Hilarious. Thank you Dave for sharing that .... you actually had me laughing here, well done.

:lol: :lol: