It was day 48 of lockdown.
I hadn’t shaved for 47 days. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not dating anyone. What was the point?
But as I laid down on my bed, my eyes drifted towards my dressing table and landed on the at-home intimate waxing kit that I had purchased at the start of the lockdown. Back when I thought it wouldn’t last this long.
It’s not like I had any other plans. Plus, I had never used one before so it might take all day for me to figure out the instructions.
I got up, grabbed the box and headed to the bathroom.
“Alexa, play bath time vibes playlist”
“Playing bath time vibes on Spotify”
Step 1: Heat the wax to the optimum temperature displayed on the machine.
Step 2: Stir with the wooden wax spatula until it has the consistency of honey.
Seems to be working…
Step 3: Spread a small amount of warm wax over the desired hair removal area.
Small? I don’t think the people who wrote these instructions were aware of my personal situation down there. I will be needing a large amount of wax. I took the spatula and spread as much wax as I could, everywhere. Let’s do this!
Step 3: Place the wax strip over the desired area and lightly press down for 20 seconds.
I smoothed the skin-coloured strip over the mountain of wax, pressed down as hard as I could. I looked like a naked barbie doll. I guess it’s too late to turn back now…
Step 4: Pull the strip away from the direction of hair growth.
It’s showtime. I grabbed the edge of the wax strip.
3…2…1 LET’S GO!
Oh no. No, no, no. It wouldn’t budge.
Not even a little.
I read the fine print: warning! Do not use more than two teaspoons of wax per strip. If you have difficulties during the removal process, please seek medical assistance immediately.
No way was I going to A&E in the middle of a global pandemic. I ran down to the kitchen.
Pizza cutter? No.
BBQ skewer? Definitely not.
A-HA! A spatula! That ought to peel it straight off. I ran back upstairs, laid on my bed and desperately tried to wedge the spatula in-between the wax strip and my skin. But as the spatula touched the wax my stomach dropped. It was stuck. Properly stuck.
I headed to the bathroom and splashed some warm water over the wax strip. I pulled with all my might and finally, to my relief, the spatula broke free from the wax.
I opened the bathroom cabinet searching for anything I might be able to use to prise the wax strip off. I grabbed a jar of coconut oil and started liberally pouring it over the wax strip hoping it would simply slip off. But in my desperation, the glass jar slipped right through my greasy hands and smashed into pieces on the floor. Brilliant.
Looking back into the cabinet, I saw the label of some fancy bath salts. SOAK AWAY THE DAY
“That’s it!” I thought to myself. “I can just soak it off”
I turned on both the taps and impatiently waited for the bath to fill.
As soon as it was ready, I got in gently, trying not to disturb the wax strip too much. As I settled myself down, Orinoco Flow by Enya began to play from the Alexa.
I closed my eyes and prayed to all the Gods that the strip would start to loosen up and fall off. I had made the bath the highest possible temperature I could stand, hoping that the heat would help ease the strip away from the wax. Sweat began to drip from my forehead. I couldn’t relax, I-
Sail Away, Sail Away, Sail Away
Yes, that’s it little wax strip, sail. AWAY. I said to myself as stared between my legs. Mind over matter right?
Sail Away, Sail Away, Sail Away
Nothing was sailing ANYWHERE.
I was now uncomfortably hot and Enya wasn’t helping.
I got out of the bath and placed a towel on my bed and laid down. I tried my luck with the corner edge of the wax strip again. To no avail.
Oh my god. This is hopeless.
I opened up Instagram on my phone, hoping that some mindless scrolling would distract me from my impending doom.
Victoria Beckham had just posted a throwback photo. Posh spice never let a little drama affect her composure. If I had any hope of finding my David Beckham, I HAD to get this wax strip off ASAP.
That’s when I realised that if I was going to get this off, I needed some musical accompaniment. I quickly opened Spotify and flicked through my playlist.
Spice Up Your Life by The Spice Girls started playing on full blast. I summoned all my strength and waited for the best chorus in history.
SLAM IT TO THE LEFT (if you’re havin’ a good time)
Here it comes…
SHAKE IT TO THE RIGHT (if you know that you feel fine)
You’ve got this…
CHICAS TO THE FRONT
HAI, SI, JA! HOLD TIGHT
“THAAAAAAANKKKKK YOUUUUUUUU!” I shouted. My Spice Girls euphoria blocked out my pain receptors. I was on top of the world.
For all of 5 minutes.
Then the pain hit me like a brick wall…