There are just some things that you never think you have to think about when getting a divorce. Sure, there is the paperwork, dividing assets, debts, incessant finger pointing with the ex, custody agreements, and of course the battle to the death over the new espresso maker. And then, there is dating…something you look forward to…much like a root canal. Chances are pretty good that the last time you were on a date, your acne was just clearing up.
But there is something I had never in my years of marital complacency considered. We are talking physical pain here. One of the most physically painful experiences I have ever had (and I even managed to deliver two children sans pain medication or epidural mind you). The cause of this post marital pain you ask?
The bikini wax.
Apparently, this is what some women do. Are married people aware of this, because, besides the occasional trim with a razor, my “nether region” was always in its natural state. Guess I missed the memo. Which made me wonder, could this have contributed to the demise of my marriage? Hmm……. Although, he seemed to have missed the memo too.
As time after the divorce passed, I became a little more used to my single status and felt ready to heed the urging of friends to ”get out there”. I wondered, what does single girl “ready” look like? Sure I’d let some things slide… a good haircut, my weight, but those were bigger fixes, I needed instant gratification. So, one warm summer evening, after a couple of glasses of wine and an educational conversation with the hot single girl neighbor across the street, I heard a voice in my head say…”if you wax it, they will come.” Suddenly I was Kevin Costner in the movie “Field of Dreams”. Somehow, I decided that I would be the most qualified to administer the bikini wax…the foray into singlehood. “How hard could this be?” I reasoned. After all, I didn’t see it listed in the curriculum at any Ivy League colleges. So with smug determination I headed home. It’s amazing the cheap access to bravado 15 bucks and a corkscrew will get you.
The screams could be heard for blocks. Wax was everywhere. I even managed to draw blood. Reaching for tissue to clean it up proved a very bad idea. As did brushing my hair out of my eyes. So there I stood, a wad of tissues stuck to my right hand, the left firmly adhered to my head and one foot attached to the floor in a pool of warm wax.
Not sure the folks at 911 would understand. Lonely was starting to have new appeal.
After an extended recovery period, and beginning a relationship with someone I was sure I was in love with, I decided to give the bikini wax another try. This time in the hands of professionals. “What kind of wax?” the lady behind the desk asked? What kind? What??? Don’t THEY know what kind of wax to use? Do I have to pick? Where am I, Baskin-Robbin 31 Flavors? Reading the confusion on my face, the lady explained that there are different styles: Bikini, Brazilian, Playboy…… Really?? I don’t know, bikini I guess.
With the first rip of the paper, I fought back screams and the urge to kick her across the room (and remember, I have a high tolerance for pain). But she didn’t stop there. She kept going. While holding my legs as though I were giving birth, she carries on waxing, ripping and chatting away. I had NO idea that some places even need waxing, but apparently, it is so. Suffice it to say, the wax lady has now seen more of me than my gynecologist.
So I walked (or limped) away, freshly waxed, sporting what appeared to be a chemical burn which I was assured was normal and would only be red for a day or two. What??? Days??? I may need this for tonight. New guy…first time…ughhhh!
But, alas, it was a hit. However, as I described my waxing woes – which I know must have been a just a HUGE turn on for him – he said “oh, yeah, I’ve see all sorts of designs: hearts, arrows, completely bare…” Ok, guys, for the record…we do NOT care to hear about what you have seen on other women. We are happy if you like what you see on us, but that’s all the information we need.
In the “pro” column is that it did make me feel very sexy (once the pain wore off), oh yeah, and it lasts much longer than shaving. In the “con” column….OWWWWWW!!
So now, having decided that waxing is a fate worse than, well…a root canal, I have to think about saving up for laser hair removal, after all, who knows exactly how long I will be on the market. And if I do find myself in another marriage, I will definitely want to keep it up for a little extra spice.
Now you know what we didn’t… so, do your married friends a favor and tell them! Pay it forward. They need this information…it could possibly save their marriage, or at least make it more fun!
Rhonda and Tracy