It's Friday. It's hot. I ran my errands this morning, so by the time I got home, I was ready for a shower. The kids were entertaining themselves, husband wasn't home yet, so it was the perfect time to take a little extra time and do some, ahem, grooming.
Now, I don't think I'm overly hirsute, but I do stay home with 3 kids and there are times when the lady bits (I don't live in Michigan, but I do live in an M state, so I don't want to get in trouble from those stupid guys who can't handle actual anatomy) take a back seat. The pits and lower legs get attacked with stainless steel on a regular basis, but the upper leg and higher? I'm a busy woman. Professional waxing is expensive and you have to make appointments. So, I decided on the DIY method.
Can you see where this is going? No? Good. Keep reading.
I started with the cream hair remover. Smoothed it on and started my (mental) timer. I was feeling confident, so I thought, "What the hell? Might as well go for the gold and do the bikini wax!"
Now, when you go to the salon for a bikini wax, you keep your underwear on and the waxer just moves things around for you. Seems reasonable. So, I warmed up my (king-sized) wax strips in my hot little hands and slapped em on my very upper thigh/crease region. Took a few deep breaths and ripped that sucker right off my body. Swore like a sailor and went for the second strip. More cursing. And now I have these beautiful bright red strips of skin at the very top of my leg. I'm a freaking professional!
Until I realize I still have wax sticking to me. No problem. The wax kit has these handy dandy little wipes which clean the mess right up.
OR...the wipes stick to the wax...and my fingers. The more I wipe, the more the wax spreads over my upper leg region.
Hmm, what to do, what to do?
In the meantime, my legs are starting to tingle (aka burn slightly) because my mental timer has gone off and is rapidly approaching meltdown mode.
Well, I need to take a shower, so I shed the underwear. Well, I attempt to shed the underwear, but there's wax on me AND the underwear, so as I pull them down, the wax spreads. To places I do not want wax to be. I now have to YANK the underwear down, and in the process they become covered in the cream that is singeing my legs. That pair is a lost cause.
So, now I'm extra sticky, with wax in places I had no intention of waxing. Water should help, right? It'll just rinse the pesky wax right off.
Oh, no it won't. Neither will soap.
Started to get a little anxious, so I slapped on some of the cream hair remover. No dice...except for a few more burn bites to some rather sensitive skin.
Never fear, I have an electric razor. I'll just have to trim a little closer than usual. The razor is not in reach, of course, so I have to hop out of the shower and rummage through my drawer. No luck. That's right. It's in my overnight bag. Upstairs. I'll be damned if I'm going to ruin a towel with wax and the kids are a lost cause when it comes to actually locating necessary items (ie. their own shoes on their own feet). So, standard razor it is. Which, of course, requires sight, so I must stand, dripping wet and shivering, over the sink so I can put in my contacts.
Back in the shower. Razor in hand. Not the sharpest razor. There is tugging involved. And there's still friggin' wax...friggin' everywhere.
I toss one razor head when it can stand no more. Back out of the shower to look for more razor heads. Thumping noises are coming from outside the bathroom, because by this point I've been in the shower at least 20 minutes. My razor has no more razor heads. Locate another razor in the shower. Also dull. Grit my teeth and hack through wax tangled hairs that should NEVER be hacked. Locate 2 new razor heads. Breathe a sigh of relief. Realize the new heads do not fit on either razor located in the shower. Thumping outside the bathroom door grows louder. Lady bits are very angry at me and hot water is officially out.
Just call me Patches.