OUCH!

Dear reader. I’m need to get personal with you today. We need to talk about a painful scourge in our society. Waxing. Due to a series of circumstances, I foolishly agreed to allow my esthetician, we’ll call her “Anya,” to conduct a waxing regime on my underarms. I have never felt anything more painful in my life…and this is from a person who has had a broken elbow and various gaping wounds that needed to be stitched up.

This tragic chain of events unfolded thusly: I noticed last Wednesday that I had run out of disposable razors. So, I charged up the electric razor. But, even after a night’s charge, the electric razor was not working, and obviously needed to be replaced. So, on Thursday, I had to make a choice. Run to the corner drugstore and buy more disposable razors or run to K-Mart and purchase a new electric razor. I decided on the electric razor. But, alas, I found a coupon for K-Mart. The coupon did not take effect until this Sunday. I had a problem that needed to be corrected as soon as possible, but I didn’t want to buy a pack of disposable razors that would be wasted, as I was determined to buy a new electric razor. So, I called up “Anya” and made an appointment for Thursday evening.

I won’t go into details, but I will say that I think I made a mistake. By the end of the horrific ordeal, I was practically curled up in a ball. She said to me in her Ukrainian accent “Beautiful,” (she calls everyone beautiful, by the way) “Come back in three weeks. It won’t hurt like this again. I promise.” Should I believe her? The results were amazing, but the process was horrific.