The Bikini Wax Disaster


Okay, so, this happened about a month ago.  But at the time, I was so embarrassed about it that I couldn’t bring myself to write about it.  Now that it’s been a while, I’m over it.  It is pretty embarrassing, but I’ve decided not to care.

My boyfriend was going to come up to my dad’s cottage, and I wanted to take care of my hair down there so I could wear my bathing suit without having to spend money on a professional bikini wax.  I know that one of my friends always waxes her own bikini zone, so I figured that I would give that a shot.

In retrospect, I don’t know why I thought this was a good idea.  I’m a huge wimp.  The only reason I don’t ask the aestheticians who wax me down there to stop halfway through my appointment is that my anxiety kicks in, and I assume that they will judge me as a human being for being such a wuss.  I don’t know why I thought that I would have the willpower to rip hair off of my genitals using hot wax.

People always tell you to believe in yourself, but I really shouldn’t have in this case.  Everything started out fine, though, so I felt confident.  I had turned the wax heater in the bathroom on, cut the cotton I’d be using to rip the hair up from its roots into strips, and I had even put baby powder on my bikini area so the wax wouldn’t stick to my skin.  I felt like such a pro!

It was finally time to start waxing.  Putting the wax onto my skin and sticking on the strip of cotton was no problem.  The trouble started when it was actually time to rip the hair out.  I braced myself to pull off the cotton strip, but then I just didn’t do it.  I was too scared.

Then I started to think about the previous time that I’d tried to give myself a bikini wax.  That time, I had gotten so scared about hurting myself that I just left the strip on my vajayjay for hours.  I eventually ended up reheating the wax with hot water and gently peeling the strip off.  And then I had one hell of a time trying to get the leftover wax residue off.

I don’t know why I thought that I had gotten beyond that, but I knew that the pain would wear off faster than the wax would, so I took a deep breath and pulled the wax off.  It really wasn’t so bad.  At least nearly not as bad as I thought it would be.  I decided that I could definitely finish the job and put some more wax down there.  As I was putting the cotton strip on, I got scared all over again.

In fact, I was so nervous about pulling this strip off that I felt like I was going to pass out.  I grabbed a towel and laid it down on the bathroom floor to make myself a place to lie down.  I did some deep breathing to keep calm.  When the light-headedness wore off, I stood back up and ripped that strip of wax off.

At this point, I probably should have stopped.  But I felt like I had gone too far to turn back, so I applied the wax all again.  I really don’t know why I got so nervous because the last two times were really not that painful.  The worst part of the whole ordeal was the anticipation, which I was just prolonging by freaking out so much.  But the light-headedness came back, and I had to lie down all over again.

I finally decided that I wasn’t cut out for this, and I stopped.  The results weren’t pretty, but at least I made it out of that bathroom alive.


“I Like to Look Like Myself”


I’ve been having some self-esteem issues lately.  I’ve been breaking out, my eyes have been kind of puffy due to a lack of sleep, and I’ve put on a bit of weight since the beginning of the summer. But, in the grand scheme of things, I have a lot to be happy about in terms of my appearance.  This morning, a five-year-old girl that I babysit every day gave me some perspective about all the little things that I don’t like about myself.

I actually babysit two girls, Clara and Gracie, before and after school.  They are both smart, funny, and sweet.  This morning, I got to their house while they were still asleep.  Their mom had already left for work when I woke them up.  Clara got me to help her pick out an outfit after telling me that she wanted to wear blue that day.  Gracie, on the other hand, didn’t want any help with her outfit.  After they both got changed, they came down for breakfast.  Clara was wearing her blue outfit, and Gracie was dressed head-to-toe in pink.

“Gracie,” I said, “Do you want to pick out a skirt to wear over your tights?  You can see right through them.”

“Mmm, yeah, okay,” she replied.

Gracie went upstairs and picked out a pink skirt, pointing out that you could still see the puppies on her tights with that skirt; the puppies were the whole reason she wanted to wear those tights in the first place.

The girls spent a long time brushing their hair this morning because they had asked their mom what her hair straightener was for, and their mom had straightened their hair for them the night before to show them.  They also spent a long time brushing their teeth because they had a dentist appointment after school, and they wanted to impress the dentist with how clean their teeth were.  To finish getting ready, Clara picked out a fashion scarf to wear.  We then left the house to head over to the school.

After dropping Clara off at the grade 2 door, I walked around the back of the school to take Gracie to the kindergarten door.  While we were walking over there, a little boy stopped Gracie to ask, “Why is Clara dressed so fancy?”

“I don’t know,” replied Gracie.  “Because she wants to.”

The little boy ran off and Gracie said to me, “Clara really likes wearing scarves.”

“She does look pretty stylish,” I said.

“Yeah,” said Gracie, “Clara always likes to look pretty.”

“What about you?” I asked.  “Do you like to look pretty?”

“I like to look like myself.”

I was speechless for a moment.  I was in awe of this little girl who probably had no idea how intelligent she sounded when she said that.  Finally, I said, “That’s a really good way to feel.  It’s really good that you want to look like yourself.  Keep that up!”

I’ve worked with a lot of little girls when I worked in a library, and so many of them have self-esteem issues.  So many of them want to look like Barbie, who has to have a makeover in her movies before she can actually go out and do anything useful.  So many of them have overly-critical parents that they want to please.  Knowing that at least one little girl is completely confident in who she is makes me really happy.  It also made me realize that even though we all have flaws, those flaws are a part of what makes us who we are.