The Wax

Have you been in any confronting situations lately? Perhaps involving paper undies? Or Milanese women speaking very little english, wielding spatulas of hot wax? Good. So have I.

I thought I’d tear in to Pitt St Mall for an extremely speedy and cheap bikini wax immediately before the Christmas holidays (sorry males and the squeamish… this post will only go downhill from here. Geddit? Sorry. The brave, read on). The key motivation was the promise of spending a week in a bikini on a beach holiday with our gorgeous friends, and the knowledge that small children will grip the nearest object when in the surf. Mummy’s bikini bottoms are often the nearest object. I wanted to be ‘prepared’ for any emergency situations.

Steve Carrell. Without you, many men would never know the true horror. I bow down and worship you and your bald bleeding nipples.

Steve Carrell. Without you, many men would never know the true horror. I bow down and worship you and your bald bleeding nipples.

Now, being a tightarse AND a bargain hunter means I was suckered in for a G-string wax upon arrival, given it was only $3 extra. Bargain. My dear therapist’s accent was so chunky you could carve it. In fact, it was so northern italian I didn’t even recognise it as Italian, despite having spent a few years learning the language. You know where this is going, don’t you? I ripped out my tragic, rubbish, washed up and incorrect tenses, and attempted to make conversation. I couldn’t think of the words for ‘awkward’ ‘embarrassed’ or ‘paper undies’. I stared at the sky. She was indulgent of my awful italian, and kept asking questions about my travels, and saying ‘And you?’ and I’d reply ‘Si, blah blah blah’.

My leg went to the ceiling, while my knee made small talk with my nose, rudely before doing any warm up stretches. Pilates thrown in for free too! WHAT a bargain. She then made a noise like ‘ahhhhh!’ like she’d found a pot of gold. Imagine her rubbing her hands together with glee, though she couldn’t as they were weighed down by rivers of burning hot wax. As my eyes watered, again she asked, ‘And you?’

‘And you?’

And me what? I decided to get over my embarrassment (since I DID sign up for this after all) and take a look down at what was going on.

It was then I realised that ‘And you?’ meant, in I can’t speak any english and have no idea what I’m saying speak: Do you want me to rip this bit here out too? 

And me, thinking we were having a conversation, kept replying ‘Si’ or: Yes, yes, blah blah blah I think I’m talking super-awesome italianese here. Go me. 

I was left with an area that would be perfect for landing model aeroplanes. I got a bargain, I think.


I‘m pretty new to this whole deal. Do you ever get over the awkward factor? Or do you just forget about it and go free-range? 

8 thoughts on “The Wax

  1. I’ve been having some fairly painful physiotherapy on a sports injury lately. So painful it has actually made me feel nauseous. But I would STILL rather endure that than a full wax. Ouchy! I only do minimal maintenance – enough so no one runs screaming from the poolside, but not enough to cause major injury :)
    Lara @ This Charming Mum recently posted…Bloglovin’ and all that jazzMy Profile

    • Yep, Lara, I’m with you. I quit. The bikini is going ROGUE. Living on the edge from now on. Sorry to hear about your injury. I know about that nausea. I recently kicked my foot so hard on some boxes I suspect I broke a bone, and spent the next half hour nearly throwing up. Hope it heals quickly for you. Have a bonfire and burn that theraband when you’re done!

  2. Meanwhile my beauty “technician” doesn’t hurt a bit and tells me that I dont need botox. (Even though I am growing my own personal matching grand canyons at the corners of my mouth). You need to get eastern beaches!

    • Could you pop that technician on a ship and sail her north over to these distant shores, please? I need a visit from the flattery boat. The rip monster scared me.

    • I feel your pain mate. I too am so hot right now. My skin is hormonal to the max. Like a teenager, but without the plus of perky boobs. My back has responded lusciously to the lavishing of sun cream, with a lavishing of pimples. So. Hot. Indeed.

  3. Ha ha, good one Kimbo. Thank God I don’t do bikinis & have to endure the pain & embarrassment. There are some good things about getting older!

    • It took the waxing to expose you! Yay for your virgin comment! I think I’ll go back to a more ’70s look after this frightening experience :)

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