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


*

How Conveeeeeeeeenient!

I just realized that I can hold my ice cold screwdriver against my sore knee and then I don't have to go get an ice pack!

Yes, the knee is jacked up again. Combo of KYA Boot Camp and kneeling, if you get my drift.

The screwdriver is tasty and I highly recommend the Richmond-produced Cirrus Vodka.

There -- two tips! And one salacious tidbit.

Tell all your single friends, whatever it takes.......


XO, JamieSmitten

This is Weird, Right?

I wax my legs. When times are good, I go to Jutta and pay for the long-lasting pleasure of no shaving. When times are lean, I wax at home.

I used to do it old school: heat the container, use the cloth strips, make a mess of drips all over the back porch. [Natural light is key. Neighbor John is a saint and ignores me when I wax al fresco.] Then I found the pre-waxed strips. They aren't quite as efficient, but they are much cleaner and faster.

So I've been using the pre-waxed strips for a few years. Not frequently, maybe 3 times a year. And just recently, Boom has started to take issue.

Boom used to lie on his cot and enjoy the sunshine while I ruthlessly denuded my legs follicle by follicle. Didn't even waste a glance. Now, as I begin to pull the strips apart, he begins to whine and look for an evacuation route. He will run upstairs and sit in the bedroom until I call him. He won't come all the way downstairs until I show him that there are no strips in my hand and assure him repeatedly that I'm all done.

It does make a tearing noise -- like pulling out a length of packing tape. Interestingly, Boom now leaves the room when I use tape too. He did not participate in Christmas present wrapping; he didn't even stay in the room.

So tonight, I gave him his supper and went upstairs to the bedroom to wax my legs. [Emergency late night wax as Boot Camp is inside tomorrow which means shorts which means deforestation must occur, natural light be damned]. He whined a few times to indicate that he didn't appreciate being left downstairs, but he didn't get agitated.

Problem solved, right? Nope. An hour later, I pulled up my pajama leg to scratch my leg and Boom leaned over to sniff my leg. He reared back, got off the couch, and proceeded to pace and whine.

So is it the sound or the smell? And WHY does he care? Boys. Completely weird.

Tell all your single friends, waxing is better, but not for everyone.


XO, JamieSmitten