Waxing Lyrical

March 12, 2009 jetset1
Tags: drink, legs, pain, sandwiches, tea, vodka, wax

There are some things in this world that when put together are fabulous. Like corned beef sandwiches dipped in tea. (Try it its bloody lovely) Then there are other things that should never even be uttered in the same sentence together. Like hangover and waxing. Let me explain….

It all started last week. Me and the boyfriend where planning on going out for a short while on Friday evening. I was in desperate need of a wax on Saturday (I had no need for tights I had grown my own) so I said I would make the appointment for about 2 in the afternoon so that we would get a nice rest in the morning. He said “No sure make it earlier than that. Then we can have the whole day together” “Are you sure?” I said “Yes of course I am” (remember that part it’s comes up later)

So we go out Friday, We have one drink. We have another. We think oooh shots would be a great idea. I’m not sure what happens next but I’m pretty sure it involved a lot of vodka and a chipper.

Saturday morning. Ahhhhhhhhhhh loud noises!!!!! Loud painful noises!! It’s my alarm. My eyes seem to be stuck together and the room feels like it’s moving. There is also an ungodly smell of drink that I assume is coming from my unconscious boyfriend and not me. I stumble to the bathroom and recoil in horror at the scary thing that is in there when I enter. It takes about 30 seconds for me to realize that this pale shaky clammy dipso is in fact me. Ah bollix!!

Then I remember why I’m up in the first place. Double bollix. I weave back into the bedroom and grunt at the boyfriend. He moans. Goods he’s in pain to the little fecker. I throw things at him hoping that he’ll understand what I want him to do without me having to do anything too taxing like form sentences. “Why are you up so early?” he mutters from under the covers “legs, wax, 12″ is all I can manage. “Jesus why did you make it so early?” I say nothing and do nothing for at least a minute. I need to muster up all the energy I can for this. “BECAUSE YOU BLOODY TOLD ME TOO YA BLOODY EEJIT” I scream. His eyes open he looks at me. I see the fear in his eyes. I tell myself it’s because I have my grumpy face on and not because I look like a troll.

We get in the car, the evil sun hurts my eyes, the engine makes my scalp hurt. I’d hang my head out the window but my skin hurts from the little blowers in the car. We arrive at the salon. I don’t say goodbye. I hope he gets stuck in a traffic jam on his way back to his warm soft bed. I walk in and thankfully they recognize me so I don’t have to say anything. I think I might throw up if I have to open my mouth. I go back into the room. Mmmmmmmmm. The lighting is soft, the room is warm, there is gentle plinky plinky music playing. I lie on the table. It’s so soft and nice. The pain seems less here. I’m filled with a warm fuzzy feeling. This is so much better. I can feel myself start to drift off. I’m vaguely aware of someone in the room talking. I want to shush them but I don’t have the energy, they’ll shut up eventually I think. There is something niggling in the back of my head but I can’t quite remember what it is. But I brush it aside and go back to being all cozy and comfy. I feel something hot and sticky on my leg. I snap back to reality. There are hands on my leg. Oh God no. RRRRIIIPPPP.

I scream, properly scream. Dear god that sadistic bitch just ripped of my skin. She f*cking mutilated me. I sit up my eyes watering prepared to see my leg with half of the flesh torn away. But oh wait. I still have skin. No hair but skin. The girl looks at me like I have 6 heads. I normally don’t feel this pain. I can carry on full conversations while she does this and I don’t bat an eyelid. But today, today is different. She goes for the wax again. I feel my body instinctively try to retract every hair back into my body in self defense but it’s too late. The wax goes on, it must come off. RRRRIIIIIIPPP. Oh god I’m gonna pass out. I start to weep. The tears stream silently out of my eyes. I ask the girl can I have one of the little sticks to bite down on. “Out drinking last night where ya?” she asks without a hint of sympathy (I think she was enjoying it to tell ya the truth) “I had a couple” I say through clenched teeth and a stick. “Well you should have booked it for later today. A bit silly getting up this early when you’re dying isn’t it.?” I stay still mustering up the energy to shout again. But then decide against it. There is no point. This is the same as going to a hairdresser. You do not piss of people with wax, scissors or people that can touch your food.

Instead I save myself for the boyfriend. Thinking how much more aerodynamic and faster I’ll be when I’m finished with this torture. How much easier it will be to catch him. Catch him and hurt him. I smile at the girl and say “Yes your right how stupid of me” and then bite down hard on the stick.

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