Do-It-Yourself Brazilian Wax? Challenge accepted

I’m a hairy chick. I’ll admit it. I have so much hair, I dread shaving because it takes so long. There was a time I looked into laser hair removal and nixed that idea when I calculated the hair to cost ratio was NOT in favor of the balance in my bank account.

Same reason I don’t have fake boobs. Yet.

So, being the independent woman that I am, I looked for a more affordable hair removal plan and found a procedure known as the Brazilian wax. I did that exactly twice at a local salon and decided that it wasn’t for me.

You can’t keep your head up after you’ve just let someone violate your pride by seeing you in compromising positions just to strip my bits and pieces of unwanted hair when there would not be anyone to see it.

So, that was a little dramatic, but you get the idea.

But I dislike shaving every day and aside from the humiliation of letting another human contort my body in naked yoga poses to de-hair my holy of holies, I did like the results of getting waxed. However, I did not like being that exposed to another human being who could possibly call out all my photoshopped flaws on the Internet. I needed another solution.

And wouldn’t you know, they have at-home wax kits now. How hard could it be? You melt it, spread it and rip it. Done.

Folks, just because they sell do-it-yourself wax kits, it doesn’t mean it comes with a certification for you to wax your own ass.

I remember a long time ago, a friend of mine told me how she waxed her own lady bits with the intent of looking like a Playboy model for her then-husband. Between not knowing exactly how to do it herself and not being able to reach around to the places she couldn’t see, it was a comic fail of epic proportions.

But I thought I would fare better since I had been working on my mobility and flexibility before and after my workouts. I also have a high tolerance for pain as well

as an understanding of strategy and genius when it comes to these things.

Or … so I thought. I propped my leg up on the toilet and commenced to putting a layer of wax across my most private of areas. Then, I readied the strip.

It wasn’t really the pain of ripping the hair from my own nether regions. It was just that after pulling the first strip, only about ten hairs were removed but felt as if I had been skinned. Tears welled in my eyes and my entire lower body spasmed from the pain.

Thinking I had done something wrong, I read the directions. Somewhere it mentioned that I may need to make a second pass with the strip.

ANOTHER PASS?!  PASS!!

Looking at my wax-covered and matted lady parts, I figured there had to be hundreds of hairs. I removed only ten on the first try. Multiply those ten by the number that would add up to hundreds … equals unnecessary vaginal mutilation by wax. Or ... I could just punch my vagina now, several times.

F*** that. I’ll just get the wax off and shave. 

And here is where the situation got out of control.

Because it was at the moment I took my foot off the toilet to stand up, legs together and resting a few minutes, that I felt my vagina and butt seal shut with wax.

Apparently, I let the wax sit on my lady parts a little too long as I recovered from the pain. When I tried to pry myself apart so that I could start removing the wax, matted hair and skin started pulling and ripping - in slow motion – revealing the wax seal went front to back.

After about what seemed like a half hour of gentle pulling, which turned out to be only five minutes of me covering myself and praying to the Lord above so loudly you would have thought I was trying to summon Jesus, I was sweating tears and panicking.

Do I heat up more wax and hope it melts the cold wax enough so I can wipe it off?

Sounds legit.

I heat up more wax and pile it on my Brazilian area (front to back). It’s hot and I wait a minute to give it a chance to melt the first coat of wax before grabbing toilet paper and trying to wipe it off. In theory, that should have worked, but instead, I ended up with toilet paper stuck to it like I had feathered myself.

Don’t ask why I didn’t just grab a towel. I didn’t and that’s it.

I wondered at that moment if anyone had gone to the ER or called 911 for something like this and decided I would not be one of them or even the first. 

It was time to ask the ever so wise Google what my remaining options were in releasing my vag and butt from the grips of two layers of wax. But my laptop was in the living room. And moving in any sort of walking motion was going to cause the wax to pull at skin and hair. Then I remembered I was home alone … and dignity was not an issue.

I low-crawled, pulling my naked lower body with my arms across the bedroom and living room floor until I reached my laptop, making sure not to separate my legs at any time. I realized during those 45 minutes of dragging my own body 6 feet across my apartment floor that this is exactly the type of situation crossfit prepares you for and that perhaps I wasn’t applying myself as I should in class.

Also, carpet sticks to wax as well, so now I had carpet fuzz, along with any hair I’ve shed, on any exposed wax at the top of my sensitive areas. 

Google was helpful in identifying two remedies for my situation: conditioner and/or oil. I was to saturate the area with one or the other and use a lukewarm towel to gently rub the wax off. But a quick survey of my bathroom clearly showed that I did not have oil and I had very little conditioner left. Not enough to do the job, anyway.

The only way I knew to get the wax soft enough to remove was to heat it up, but I was definitely not going to take a lighter to my vagina. However, I was not above extending my hips under the bathtub faucet to run hot water onto my bits and pieces to hopefully melt and loosen the death grip the wax had on my nether regions.

Hallelujah, it was working!

Don’t get me wrong, the wax didn’t just melt off. There was quite a bit of rubbing and pulling and prying and separating and crying and swearing and praying. I just needed to get enough off so that I could take myself to the store and get oil and conditioner and put all of it down my pants to get the rest of the wax off.

It is months later and fortunately, there is minimal exterior scarring from that incident. I will NEVER try this at home again. If I had to rate the product, I'd say it was a good buy and probably would work for someone who had less coarse hair or actually knew what they were doing ... or ... wanted to punish their genitals for bad decisions made while under the influence of alcohol or douchebaggery. 

Because I truly believe this stuff would wax the s*** out of an STD. It's that potent. 

Forging Elite Phatness: The story of how I made a Crossfit date and he wasn’t totally turned off

“What’s W-O-D?” ~ Him

“SHHHHHHH! Oh my God, not so loud, you’ll be crucified!” ~ Me

“???” ~ His face

“It means Workout of the Day in the crossfit community,” ~ Me

There are a few things someone who is not an elite athlete should not do under any circumstances. Actually, there is really only one thing and it’s so glaringly obvious that I’m beside myself at having missed it.

Never, ever, under any circumstances make crossfit a date activity unless you are really, really good at crossfit and being athletic. Especially if the prospect is hot, athletic and has never seen you workout.

Unless you have the ability to suck at working out and still look hot and graceful. 

I’m not either and I'm definitely not athletic or good at crossfit. I go, do my best and I’m excited to still be moderately mobile and alive when class is over. So why I suggested to this hot, athletic-looking guy that the way to score a date was to make it through a WOD is beyond me. But I did and he accepted the challenge.

And it was the most embarrassingly painful experience I never actually expected would happen. What guy works that hard for a date? With me, no less!

Most guys who talk to me visibly fake an interest in what I do and like in a supreme effort to drop my panties. If they are cute enough, sometimes I fall for it, date for almost four years and then I get dumped in another state while he ends up with all the girls he’s never had the chance to be with (and hopefully a nasty STD) when he goes back home.

But I digress.

This guy, though, took the “crossfit for a date” challenge. I prayed for an easy WOD with no lifting because watching me clean and jerk is like watching someone get electrocuted.  But mainly because this guy was hot and I didn’t want to look like an amateur on this ‘pre-date’ date.

Hot guy is very fit, but admitted to never having the crossfit experience. I thought this would give me the advantage. Especially since the WOD looked relatively easy: 15 min AMRAP of 250 meter row and 25 push-ups. I mean, it was so easy there wasn’t a weaksauce scale for it.

I thought I was good.

I wasn’t.

As a matter of fact, by the time the warm-up was over, I was ready to call ‘time.’ But I looked at my 'almost date' and he hadn’t broken a sweat. So I faked bad-assery and was like, BRING IT ON, COACH (but in my head, not out loud, lest my shaky voice betray my insecurities) and took a superhero stance.

I look good and a little thinner when I stand that way, FYI. It's about posture and angle. 

So, the WOD starts and I get thru the first row and head down for my first push-up and that’s when I realize I am going to have issues. After one push-up, my arms decided they were too wrecked from the row, buckled under my weight with each rep and I smacked down on my chest 24 more times before making it to the second round.

As I started the second row, I peeked over at ‘almost date’s’ progress on our shared whiteboard and he had already completed an extra round while I was fighting thru my first round push-ups.

At that moment, I wished I had bothered to wear make-up because if I was going to suck, I wanted to look good doing it. But I didn’t and I was looking rough and weak.

I immediately regretted making this a condition and wondered why the hell he would agree to such nonsense – wait, why would I come up with such nonsense to start? Then my prayers turned to hoping neither coach would critique me so I could at least use my dedication to technique and form as my reason for not making it through more than two rounds in 5 minutes.

Let me also say that 15 minutes is a long time when you’re crossfitting. It’s like a WOD has the ability to slow time. Science fiction you say? Try it and see if by the second round of anything you're not wondering why only one complete minute has passed.

Again, I digress.

When it was over, I could feel my boobs starting to hurt because the last 50 pushups were just me body slamming the mat. My arms were numb. I was raining sweat from every single pore on my body and I was resigned to the fact that ‘almost date’ was 

going to probably turn into a ‘non-date.’

But, I had completed 5+ rounds and was feeling accomplished. Until he said he’d done seven. I looked at him and in that moment, he was the hottest guy I’d ever seen. And he wasn’t sweating.

Because when you complete a WOD like that without prior experience, you don’t sweat. You glisten. He was glistening like the pictures of those pro-athletes you see on posters for workout supplements and gear. And he was beautiful.

And I looked like a sweat-drenched, hot mess.

However, mentally, I high-fived myself for not quitting and being able to walk out on two feet instead of on all fours dragging my sweat and pride behind me.

And hot guy is still looking to collect on that date. Which will never happen at a crossfit gym ever again.

Ever.

Next time, it will be Wine & Paint. I'm good at art.