Boom and Pullo -- Action Shot!

Rule #345: Avoid Myopic Waxers

I think I've mentioned the fact that I wax my legs. Have done for years and years. Doesn't even hurt any more and I can't conceive of returning to the constant razor scrape. To each his own.


So I decided to celebrate the coming of summer and get a little wild. (O.K. This isn't too wild. I'm not naming names but readers in Chesterfield County and in Portland have done it. I'm just saying.) But yep, I decided to celebrate my return to a rampant sex life with a Brazilian. Not the removal of every hair, but a nice little wax job. (I hate that airport term. I get visions of fiery crashes.)


So I did my research and found a place with Brazilian Wax EXPERTS. (I'm not going to name names, but if you are planning to go Brazilian in the metro Richmond area, please check with me first.) I couldn't get an appointment before NYC, so I settled for an appointment before the Florida trip. Since they call themselves skin experts, I didn't even feel guilty for saying I had to leave work early for an appointment with my dermatologist.


I arrived, filled out the paperwork, clarified that I wanted an upper leg and a Brazilian, and was escorted back to a room. By a woman wearing the thickest glasses possible outside of a Jerry Lewis movie. (I worked for optometrists for 4 years. I know what lenses for extreme myopia and astigmatism look like. These were they.)


I'm handed a pair of paper underwear which is really a piece of paper with a large elastic around the top. Blind Betty leaves the room and I undress and carefully position the 2" by 6" paper over my special place.

She comes back in and we discuss our plan of attack. She seems to know what she is talking about, but during the hour I was at her mercy, she revealed that waxing was just a fill in job while she finished her masters. In something or other. She said where do you want me to stop and I pointed. Then she applied the wax a good inch below the mark. Let's just say, what was left looked like the survivor of a rampant forest fire: a few sparse patches here and there.

Don't even get me started on the upper leg wax. Blind Betty's method here was to get very close to my leg and angle it back and forth to see if she could catch sight of a hair in the light, then wax that one small area. Finally, I just started pointing out entire sections she had missed.


Eventually I took pity on her and said I was satisfied with the job. She left the room while I dressed and I managed to slather on/rip off three more sections myself before she knocked on the door and asked if I was almost done.


You do NOT want to know what I paid. Needless to say, I declined the "package" deal for discounts on future waxings.


After conversing with some of my friends, I am sure that a professional Brazilian wax might be nice. I wholeheartedly suggest avoiding the the Short Pump patch wax. On the plus side, hair grows back so I no longer look like a forest fire victim.


Tell all your single friends, Brazilians aren't just for women*




XO, JamieSmitten


*

Been There, Got the T-Shirt

Oh my, the things I've seen:

• Poison Oak that lasts a month
• Dirt clods in my pocket after the motorcycle dirt drag races at Slades Park
• Stars -- when I wrenched my back during boot camp
• Stars again -- when the physical therapist dug his thumb into my wrenched back
• Remnants of a Philly cheese steak on my own plate
• Mountains of puppy poo -- sometimes even on the puppy pee pad
• Teeny, tiny LOUD frogs in stagnant pools in the rocks in the James River
• LOTS of dog tug of war

Tell all your single friends, dirt is for racing, asphalt just for getting there.

XO, JamieSmitten

He Missed Me Too!

He even brought me flowers.

Tell all your single friends, a bouquet is a lovely surprise.


XO, JamieSmitten

Sigh

I am 29 hours into my second 48 hour separation from Jason in 4 days.

I admit it. I've become spoiled by constant companionship and love.

I'm not quite missing his impressively stinky farts, but I expect that will happen around hour 44.

Sigh.

Tell all your single friends, our reunion is going to raise the roof.

XO, JamieSmitten

More Real Text Messages on My Phone

"Get over here in the heat & Join us!"


"How did u know i just ate chef boyardee"


"Did u check my pants"


"Meat still frozen"


"Thank goodness! Was the thing sideways?"


"Doubtful. I'm a respectable partnered woman now. Snort."


"Parsippany"


Tell all your single friends, the accent is on the SIP not the PANY.



XO, JamieSmitten

So, I've Been, Like, Busy and Stuff

A week in Florida with the family AND Jason. (He still loves me after 8 days of constant companionship and rain)

A new clutch. (Don't ask me about walking home at 7 a.m. with a hangover when the clutch that was *definitely going to last until the parts came in* crapped out)

A raft of stern emails. (Seriously. My friends are either overly concerned with my well-being or overly opinionated. Jury is still out)

A restorative email about the wonderfulness of love. (The Rev RULES)

A return to Boot Camp. (Argh. Push-ups are mostly mastered but who the HELL can do 10 pull ups?)

A loss of boobs. (I didn't notice this one, but OTHERS did)

A pair of homemade socks. (Thank you, Barbie, I LOVE them!)

A first movie at the Byrd with Jason. (I LOVE YOU MAN!)

A dinner with the Amanda gang. (She would have snorted with laughter, several times)

A new puppy for Jason. (Pix to come -- once the little bastard stands still long enough for me to take a pic)

A long conversation with a dear friend. (One of these days, I'm coming to San Antonio!!)

Tell all your single friends, living life leaves little time for blogging Chez Smitten.


XO, JamieSmitten