The Waxing Incident of '08

When I was a senior in high school I took a weight training class. I heard it was pretty easy, as long as you attended you got a passing grade. Plus, HELLO, boys....enough said. Anyway, after a semester of socializing and not getting any stronger, I decided to actually lift weights one day. I remember saying, "Look at me, Mr. Hood, I am really doing something today." Seconds later an unsecured bar crashed down on the bridge of my nose and knocked me out cold. With only a few days left of school, I am sure I appear in more than one person's photo memories with two black eyes and a swollen nose.

I can't help but think of the good intentions I had that day as I recover from my latest incident. I am not into self mutilation, but I am also not the most coordinated person in the world. Look over my body at any given time and you would find bruises in varying shades of purple and yellow, scratches, bumps, and more than one sore muscle. None of this can compare to what I will refer to as "The Waxing Incident of '08."

Yesterday I decided to give myself a bikini wax. This is a semi-regular occurrence. I do a decent job...I've never felt the need to pay someone else to do it for me. I heated the wax in the microwave, got my strips ready, and settled in for the ordeal. I applied the wax to a delicate area and it was a little warm so it ran into an even more delicate area. No biggie, I thought. I put a strip on it and pulled. Pulled off a one inch by half inch section of my skin. Down there. EEK!!! Between the gushing blood and the wax that was still left I was near passing out. How was I going to get the rest of the wax off because I was NEVER going to put another strip on myself and pull? If you have ever used wax on yourself, you know that hot water DOES NOT take wax off.

I did the only thing I could think of at the time, I called my neighbor Dana. "Dana, I had a waxing incident. You can tell Pete (her husband) but at least wait to laugh until after we get off the phone."
Dana is a very smart person. I knew she would have great advice for me. But when she suggested that I get out a lighter and try to melt it, I knew I was on my own. It probably would have worked, but between the missing flap of skin and the wax that was still down there, there was NO WAY I was going to take a chance at having to explain burns to an ER doctor too.
"I could come over," she said, "It would be like the Sex in the City episode where Carrie loses her diaphragm and Samantha has to go look for it."

Yeah, thanks Dana, but I think I got this. Between scissors, a hot bath, and neosporin I think I will survive. If you need me, I'll be sitting on my ice pack....