I realize I probably have more male readers than female – it’s the nature of the beast in an industry that has been male-dominated for years. I try to be as non-denominational as possible with my posts, and I try to keep it on trucking-specific topics, but today, this one is for the ladies and not on point. We’ll call it our “pre-Mother’s Day warning post,” and I promise not to stray from trucking posts again for at least 45 minutes.
Our daughter introduced me to this wonderfully evil thing called “Groupon.” Groupon is an app that allows you to try things you’d never try in a million years — because they’re expensive, or odd, or just something you flat-out wouldn’t do — without a 50 percent off coupon. You purchase discounted vouchers for everything from massages to Caribbean cruises, and if you’re like me, you carry your hillbilly butt into a spa to have your legs waxed for the first time in your 49 years on earth.
Groupon, aka the only reason you’d ever pay someone to rip your leg hair off with hot wax.Granted, I’m familiar with the waxing process. I worked in salons for years, but I never had anything waxed but my eyebrows. For those of you who have never had it done, hair removal via waxing involves slathering hot wax on your hairy skin, laying strips of linen on the wax, and violently ripping the hair from the follicles, which are firmly attached to the skin.
I realize this is enough information to send a sane person running in the opposite direction with their hairy legs flapping in the wind, but beauty is a cruel master, and shaving isn’t always an option when you’re on the road. (Ha! I got in a trucking reference!) I was sold on the fact that my legs would be smooth and hair-less for up to four weeks.
So I bought the Groupon, and showed up at a beautiful little spa right down the street from our house hairy-legged and a little nervous, but excited to be able to leave my razors at home.
Karen was great. She is a consummate professional who people have been paying decent sums of money to for her to inflict warfare on unwanted body hair for more than 20 years. I can’t say enough about her abilities.
I, however, wasn’t so great. Shocker, right?
The waxing table was in a gorgeous, relaxing room, everything was clean and fluffy, the lighting was perfect, there was lavender being infused in the air. Karen explained everything and the combination of her soft voice and the dreamy surroundings lulled me into a very nice, relaxed place. The wax was warm enough to relax my tense calf muscles, the whole experience was fantastic …
When she ripped the first piece of linen off, I swear I heard a lawnmower start. Soft and dreamy was immediately replaced with, “HOLYJESUSWHATDIDYOUJUSTDO???” I was pretty sure I had begun hemorrhaging from the swath of leg she just removed, along with the hair, fragments of my shin bone, and at least half my calf muscle. “OHMYFREAKINGLORDTHATHURTS!”
Karen, ever the professional, calmly explained that I was “a little hairy” and the first wax might not be a great experience. (Well thanks for warning a sistah. Also, it’s “peach fuzz.” Harumph.)
I figured if I was able to birth two babies, I should be able to suck it up and have my legs waxed. I had also paid for it, and I’m cheap, so I was determined to tough it out. Three hours later, I crawled out of the once-gorgeous little waxing room with hairy linen strips stuck to the bottom of my shoes, and legs that promised to be smooth and silky, after the scabs healed.
Karen asked me if I’d like to make a follow-up appointment for four weeks, and I told her there was a reason my kids were born 11 years apart. It took me that long to forget the self-inflicted pain. I was also not sure the skin grafts I was going directly to the emergency room to get would be ready for waxing in four short weeks. I must have been deep in shock, because I actually did make a follow-up appointment.
All kidding aside, if someone gives you a gift certificate to have your legs waxed for Mother’s Day, slap them for being ugly enough to mention your hairy legs, and go do it. After about the fifth time they snatch that linen off, you lose all feeling in your lower extremities anyway, so the pain is short-lived. And I really am happy with the results. I even have a scab shaped like Ohio on my left shin. I’m joking — I don’t have any scabs. But the sutures are healing nicely …
