My Southern Charm

     As my ninety days come to a close, what better way to finish up my Love in 90 Days project than at the hub of new love and commitment – a wedding.  So I packed my bags, hopped on a plane and headed out to Washington D.C. this weekend for a college friend’s wedding.  And since flying ain’t what it use to be, I crammed everything into a carry-on bag and a purse to avoid paying that annoying $25 checked baggage fee.  Doing this also meant foregoing a razor.  Simple fix though, made an appointment with my girl, Lily, for a waxing. 

     I have been going to Lily for years.  She’s the one to make an appointment with if you are pressed for time.  She’s pretty speedy and yet still thorough. 

     I arrive at my appointment.  Underarm – done.  Bottom half of legs – done.  Thighs – done.  Moving onto the bikini area…I have no aspiration of being a swimsuit model so I just get the basic.  Slight rotation of my right leg and a little shifting of my underwear – nothing unusual so far.  She begins waxing and then I feel her shift my underwear a bit more.  Then suddenly I feel wax go where I have never felt wax go before.  My mind starts racing:  Did she mean to do that?  I just wanted a basic, she knows that.  Oh, f%$#, this is gonna hurt.  Lily bends my leg even more, gets in position – YANK!  I flew about five feet off the table.  To relieve the pain she applied pressure, looked over her shoulder at me and gave an animated smiley face.  All I could mouth was, “I’m okay.”

     She continued waxing my right side and my mind continued racing:  Crap, there’s another side to do!  If she doesn’t do it, it’ll be uneven.  Oh God, is this my Sex in the City moment where I end up with a surprise Brazilian treatment?

     She switches to my left side.  Starts out normal, like the other side did.  Then another shift in underwear and now I’m laying with my legs flopped on the table like a frog in seventh grade biology class about to meet his maker.  More wax placed in unmentionable places.  Lily gets in position and I tense up just knowing what’s coming and then – “Holy Mary Mother of &$%!  Another five foot jump off the table, applied pressure and an animated smiley face that I think she thought was somehow soothing – not so much. 

     As I’m laying there while she is finishing up my front, my mind starts racing again:  What can she damage on my backside?  Did she actually damage anything from this side?  If Tenacious Ken lived closer I’d probably utilize his area of self-proclaimed expertise and have him take a look to make sure everything is still looking ok and in working order.  (For those of you who don’t know much about Tenacious Ken, click here and find out why here popped into my head.)

     Lily then pipes up, and in broken English says something along the lines of weekend and they won’t find hair.  I hope she realizes I’m attending the wedding, not entertaining at the bachelor party.  I pieced it all together and basically my girl Lily is preparing me to “get lucky” this weekend and wants everything to be presentable.  (Jeez, I hope my dad is not reading this post right now.)  She didn’t go Brazilian, but she was nearly there.  We will just call it Costa Rican.

     I flipped over and everything went as it normally does.  Until I felt my underwear shift again.  Apparently Lily wanted to get the butt cheeks too.  (Tenacious Ken again popped into my head.)  She was an artist at work.

     I got home slightly traumatized, afraid to look and so exhausted I went straight to bed.  The next morning, while in the shower I was washing away some wax residue and – whoa, that area has never been smooth before.  Got out of the shower caught a glimpse in the mirror.  It’s not even a landing strip.  It’s more of a parking space.



  1. Ken Said:

    I still stand ready to assist, goddess.

  2. Michael Said:

    Oh that was a funny post…so descriptive I could feel your pain…well, not really feel your pain but rather feel your fear!

  3. Man-shopper Said:

    Oh my lord, I definitely feel your pain. PAIN.

    Here, I can’t ask for a ‘bikini wax’ as opposed to a ‘brazilian wax’. The place that I go to, they just have to be contrary and rename them as some sort of twisted marketing campaign. And unfortunately, for some reason, I am incapable of remembering the difference between a ‘maillot sexy’ and a maillot intégral’. One is the bikini, and one is the brazilian. There have been multiple times that I ask for the wrong one and end up with far too much wax in all the wrong places.

    • ziazitella Said:

      I would definitely be commiting that vocab to memory. Making the mistake once is more than enough.

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