As he stood in front of St. Peter at the Pearly Gates, he saw a huge wall of clocks behind him.
THIS IS A FRIGHTENING STATISTIC, PROBABLY ONE OF THE MOST WORRISOME IN RECENT YEARS.
25% of the women in this country are on medication for mental illness.
Twenty-five percent.. That’s scary.
It means 75% are running around untreated!
“Is it solipsistic in here or is it just me?”
My night began as any other normal weeknight.
Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: ‘Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet. So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those ‘cold wax’ kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you
peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off.
No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I’m not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out.
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees.
‘Cold wax,’ yeah…right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works!
OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling, but it wasn’t too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me!
I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids,
I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting
championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.
Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long
strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself….RRRRIIIPPP!!!!
I’m blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!….OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!
Vision returning, I notice that I’ve only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is
spinning and spotted.
I think I may pass out…..must stay conscious…must stay conscious. Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe,
breathe…OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy – a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I
want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair.
I hold up the strip!
There’s no hair on it.
Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The ha ir that should be on the strip…it’s not! I touch. I am touching wax.
I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next
BIG mistake… remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut!
I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself ‘Please don’t let me get the urge to
My head may pop off!’ What can I do to melt the wax?
Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I’ll run the hottest water I can stand, into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered
bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???
I get in the tub – the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment – I sit.
Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the
bottom of the tub….in scalding hot water.
Which, by the way, doesn’t melt cold wax.
So, now I’m stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It’s a very good
conversation starter. ‘So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!’
There is a slight pause. She doesn’t know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me.
She wants to know exactly where the wax is located,
Are we talking cheeks or hoo-ha?’
She’s laughing out loud by now . I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the
box. YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else’s night.
While we go through various solutions. I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor. Nothing feels better than to have
your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I’m pretty sure I’m going to need Post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace….the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax.
What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub
some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. It’s sooo painful, but I really don’t care.
It works !!’ I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and
then notice to my grief and despair… THE HAIR IS STILL THERE…….ALL OF IT!
So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I’m numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I’m going to try hair color……
Obama goes to a school to talk to the kids and to get a little PR. After his talk he offers question time. One little boy puts up his hand and Obama asks him his name.
“Stanley,” responds the boy.
“And what is your question, Stanley?”
“I have 4 questions: First, why did you go to bed the night of the Benghazi raid and only talk to your cabinet one time when you KNEW Americans’ lives were on the line? Second, why are you President when we still have no clue where you were born? Third, what REALLY happened to all of the money you gave to green energy corporations that are now bankrupt? Fourth, if I don’t do my homework I get punished … why haven’t you submitted a budget to Congress when the LAW says you were supposed to submit one by the first Monday in February?
Just then, the bell rings for recess. Obama informs the kiddies that they will continue after recess.
When they resume Obama says, “OK, now … where were we? Oh, that ‘s right: question time. Who has a question?”
Another little boy puts up his hand. Obama points him out and asks him his name.
“Steve,” he responds.
“And what is your question,Steve?”
“Actually, I have 6 questions. First, why did you go to bed the night of the Benghazi raid and only talk to your cabinet one time when you KNEW Americans lives were on the line? Second, why are you President when we still have no clue where you were born? Third, what REALLY happened to all of the money you gave to green energy corporations that are now bankrupt? Fourth, if I don’t do my homework I get punished … why haven’t you submitted a budget to Congress when the LAW says you were supposed to submit one by the first Monday in February? Fifth, why did the recess bell go off 20 minutes early? And sixth, what the heck happened to Stanley?”