Waxing Sentimental

Once upon a time Gladys thought she would treat herself to a special spa treatment. You know one that is very intimate and personal. She called all the local spas and asked the women she knew who would be the best to perform this particular spa treatment. She made the appointment and having never done this before got instructions on what to wear and how to prepare. They gave her the appointed time and she put it on her calendar.

The day finally came and she dressed in her cutest velour jogging suit. Not that Gladys would ever jog. The fact of the matter is that Gladys wouldn’t run if a zombie was chasing her, but I digress. It was rainy and grey and she drove to the spa. She arrived ten minutes before her appointment. She filled out the questionnaire that inquired about skin sensitivities, allergies, who recommended this particular spa as well as if she had ever had this treatment before.
She was then lead to the changing room and given a robe. She stripped off clothes and folded them into a locker she donned the robe she walked to another waiting area until it was her turn. Gladys was very nervous as she had never had this done before. She wasn’t sure what to expect but everyone had told her that a bikini wax was really no big deal. She heard her name and stood to greet her esthetician, Hilda. They made the usual small talk as Hilda guided Gladys into the waxing room. She placed Gladys on the table and propped her legs into position. “Now tell me Vat Vould Du Like? Bikini? Bradzillian? “ Hilda inquired.

Gladys thought hard on what the difference of a bikini and a Brazilian were. She thought the Brazilian sounded less revealing than a Bikini wax so she blurted out “Brazilian”. (For those of you like Gladys a Brazilian Wax is where they torturously and heinously pull every single hair from your nether regions. Including the folds and furrows of the most intimate of womanly areas) Hilda started on the legs layering wax and then cloth. She would count eins, swei, drei then pull it off. Gladys bit her bottom lip as tears flooded her eyes. Hilda smirked and then pulled the robe back to reveal Gladys’ nether regions. “De vax vill be varm” she warned as she began to slather wax in places where wax hot or other wise shouldn’t be. Gladys closed her eyes and reminded her self this was all for beauty. Then Hilda pulled the first cloth from the most tenderest girly bits. Gladys screamed a blood curdling scream and cried “What they heck are you doing?”

Hilda stopped mid-yank and said “I am giving du de Bradzilian”. Then continued to yank hair, skin and girly innards straight up out. Gladys sobbed “Please stop! I don’t understand why you have put wax in my butt crack. I don’t need a hemorroidectomy, honest.” Hilda chuckled and said “Vat is dis hermoidescomy?” She continued to yank and pull in a constant state of torture. She yanked and tugged until there was not a patch, a root or a strand of hair left.

Gladys lay on the table unable to move. The whole lower portion of her body was on fire. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks and she was trying desperately to catch her breath as she said “What did you just do to me?” Hilda washed her hands and turned to respond “Dat is a Bradzilian. Dat is for vat du asked.” Then she handed Gladys a mirror and said “you like? Yes?” Gladys could not bring herself to look at the havoc that had been wrought on her under-beings. She slowly and gingerly got up off the table and asked “what do I do now?” Hilda sniffed and said “go to das beach. You can now wear a tong.”

That is the day that Gladys learned not to trust you girly parts to anyone named Hilda. It is also the day she decided that wearing a full 1920’s style bathing suit might not be so bad.