A Terrible Idea

So in preparation for going back to work today (not Thursday as I stated in Monday's post when I was obviously on crack) I decided to wax my underarms. Before you freak out, I do it all the time, for several years now. To sway any of you skeptics out there I only wax about once every two months and that is it. I am not a slave to the razor. Well, my armpits aren't anyway. My legs however...

As many of you know, I am a hairstylist. I work in a very nice Salon and Spa. Unfortunately our spa currently has no esthetician. What does an esthetician do? Waxing. Among other things. So where does this leave me? Paying someone at another location to do it (which is a hassle considering I was once able to just zip upstairs for a few minutes in between clients and pay a fraction of the price with my employee discount) (Don't be jealous because my job has no benefits and no pension, when I get old I'll have to live in a tent) or doing it myself.

So which do you think I chose? Adopting my daughter's soon to be mantra “I can do it by myself!” I did that very thing. But you see I've done it before. I've done it a couple of times actually and was pretty successful. So doing it again last night was no big deal. Except that I tried doing it while watching an episode of 'Firefly' with my husband. Turns out good lighting and paying attention to what you are doing is key when ripping armpit hairs out by the roots. I didn't know what I had done wrong exactly but I knew that it hurt. So after punishing myself a little more I decided to quit.

This morning I surveyed the damage. Red, very red. Injured looking but still many hairs. I considered shaving, but as anyone who understands waxing knows, I would suffer a major set back in my waxing routine. I considered making an appointment with a professional to finish the job properly but I was too embarrassed for anyone (except the internet) to see what I had done to myself. Also, if I was the esthetician looking at my sorry pit I'd tell me to go home and let it heal before I would even go near the thing. (I really hope Plantain is reading this because I think she'll get a kick out of it and/or think I'm a total putz)

So, are you all dying to know what I did? Or do you think you can guess? If you guessed that I decided to yet again abuse my poor tender under arms myself you win. I totally lose. This time I was in the bathroom, in front of a mirror, in good lighting, paying attention to what I was doing. It still hurt but the pits are virtually hair free. Was it worth it? Um... not really. I think I'll probably shell out the cash and go to a professional next time. To think I once gave Bon advice about seeing a waxing professional. I think this is what they call, 'Poetic Justice'.

Anyway, because I wasn't quite humiliated enough and I'm just begging for people to tell me what a moron I am I'm posting a picture of my mutilated under arm.



And then to give you something pleasant to replace that awful image, a picture of my sleeping angel. The kind of picture I rarely have the pleasure of snapping anymore.