Tuesday, August 28, 2007

owe em gee.

My cooter is on fire. Ok, if you're still reading, let me just tell you about the worst waxing experience I've ever had, which ended about 20 minutes ago. See, Olympia in Arizona can't move to CA to be my personal bikini waxer. Although I'd like her to. And if I ever have a ridiculous amount of money, I might just fly back to AZ once every six weeks to enjoy her services.

I've been waxed one other time while I was out here, and I was not a fan. The chick left a couple of strips that I took care of when I got home. So, I knew I needed to try another place. There are a couple of small beauty shops across the street. One of them cut my hair and did a great job. (I'm starting to grow it out, and it was getting shaggy. Now it's all nice and shapely.) I called to make a waxing appointment, but the shop was closed today and I'm going out of town tomorrow. So I made an appointment with another place I walked by.

When I walked in, that should have been my first sign. She took me in the back after I explained what I wanted (out loud in front of the entire beauty shop--although I'm pretty sure I was the only other person who spoke English)(and even though I'd made an appointment and explained exactly what I wanted so I wouldn't have to say it out loud in front of the entire beauty shop) and was all surprised when she came back in the room to see me stripped down. I was beginning to wonder if she'd ever done a Brazilian before. Great.

She wheels in a cart of...what is that...sugar? Yes. I've heard of sugaring. Yeah it's all natural, but it's not nearly as good as wax in terms of getting the stuff off. Which was demonstrated when she had to go over everything several times. And there was still stuff there. I just wanted to pay my money and go. But she leaves the room and comes back with thread. For threading. OhDearGod. Not threading. I have not heard good things about this. Oh, and she leaves the door all wide open. And my nether region is facing said open door. She's like, can you spread your legs more, and I'm all, can you close the door?

Then, THEN she whips out hydrogen peroxide. To clean me. Can I just say ow? This is the most sterile my cooter has ever been. We're finally done and she's all, let me check to make sure I got everything, and I'm all, oh, it's fine. Even though I know it's not and I'll need to fix stuff when I get home. As I'm putting my shorts back on, she had the nerve to tell me I'm pretty. Are you kidding?? After you just got up close and personal with my ugly you're commenting on my pretty? I don't even know how to respond to that.

Good side? It was only $20 instead of $60. But I'm willing to pay $60 if I can get an Olympia-quality job.

Lesson: When you make an appointment for a Brazilian, ask what type of medium they use. If it's sugar-based, immediately hang up the phone.


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