I am pale and of French descent. I am fortunate enough to have thick, healthy hair on top of my head. And everywhere else.
I was always hairy. I remember being conscious of this fact as early as the third grade, when a bully tormented me day after day for my furry arms and legs and unibrow. This early blow to my young psyche caused me to forever resent my body hair. And I vowed to use whatever means possible to remove it.
I began with shaving. I bought every razor and every cream on the market, but no matter what I did, I’d end up with stubble and intense razor rash. Next, I tried depilatory creams. Leaving the cream on too long would give me chemical burn, but removing it too soon wouldn’t remove my dense forest of leg hair. Since I couldn’t afford laser hair removal, I turned to a final, more dreaded form of hair removal: waxing.
Before I run through all the ins and outs of this particularly violent beautification process, rest assured that though I am not a professional, I have enough experience to keep some brave souls from making the mistakes I did.
Step 1: Grow out your disgusting body hair for two weeks. For two weeks, avoid shaving/plucking/burning off the hair in the area you wish to be waxed. This is arguably the most important step. If the hair is too short, the wax won’t grip and you’re out $40 for nothing. If the hair is too long, it’s going to hurt worse. Two weeks. Comprende?
Step 2: Make your appointment. This may seem like a simple task, but I guarantee it’s anything but. Do your research and find a salon and technician you trust. Also, don’t forget to compare prices. I’ve paid anywhere from $30 to $45 for a half-leg wax. Most places will be able to get you in a chair within two weeks. Plan your hair growth accordingly.
Step 3: Prepare thyself. Pre-wax prep is to be taken seriously. Like, so seriously. One must prepare physically and mentally to get hair ripped from the root. Make sure to wear clothing that exposes the area to be waxed, unless you’re one of the brave few who doesn’t mind stripping down to nothing in a dark room with a stranger. Cleanse the area to be waxed with warm soap and water to get rid of oils on the skin that interfere with the wax sticking to the hair. It also gives you time to meditate and reflect on the pain that is to come, and ask yourself if it’s worth it. Lastly, DO NOT TAKE PAIN PILLS. It seems like it would make perfect sense, but let me tell you, the pills defy all logic and will worsen the pain. Be warned.
Step 4: Humiliation. Hang your head in shame when walking into the salon, because you are a freak. You are disgusting, and no one will ever love you because you’re hairier than a Greek Sasquatch. Don’t make eye contact with anyone at the front desk; simply explain that you have an appointment for a full-body wax. Once you meet the person who’s going to spend the next hour rendering you hairless as a newborn, make jokes. Awkward jokes. Laugh nervously. Even though she says she’s “seen worse,” convince yourself she hasn’t. This is an integral part of the waxing experience.
Step 5: Get waxed. So by now you’re lying there, vulnerable, on a table in a dimly lit room. Relaxing music is playing softly in the background, mocking you. The technician will begin applying the wax to your armpits/legs/unmentionables as you breath in the lavender scented oils that fill the room. At first it will be warm and soothing, but then she keeps spreading it. She’s planning on covering a large surface area in one fatal swipe. She makes small talk. She asks you about your nonexistent boyfriend, and right as you’re about to answer “Who could love a monster like me?” she rips around two billion hairs violently from their follicles. You try not to shout expletives. You wish they’d given you a leather belt to bite down on. Near the end, you’re sweaty, shaking and biting your tongue. You thrash about wildly on the table in pain. You have one goal in mind: survival.
Step 6: Pay up. Exit the torture chamber and enter the brightly lit front of the salon. You’d forgotten what sunlight looks like. The front desk people are judging you really harshly now. They heard the screams. They look upon your reddened face and smirk. They know this is a racket. You just paid someone to inflict pain upon you for 40 minutes, and you’re about to tip them. It goes against every human instinct that has been instilled in mankind since the first hominid stood upright. But, you must pay and tip generously.
Step 7: Aftercare. No matter how you slice it, it straight up hurts to get waxed. Treat your skin kindly. Apply some soothing, non-scented lotion and take an anti-inflammatory. Avoid wearing clothing that will rub against your freshly waxed skin and cause irritation. The redness and swelling usually goes down within 24 hours, but until them, remain indoors. Red swollen legs are better than hairy ones, but you’re still unsightly and grotesque. Take this time in isolation to tell everyone about how traumatizing this experience was for you. Talk about it on social media. Dramatically tweet about it. Post pictures of tears running down your cheeks on Instagram. The most important part of the aftercare is sharing your experiences with people who could not care less about the removal of your body hair. Blog about it. Write an article for your student magazine about it, for sure. Whatever it takes to ensure that everyone knows you suffered to look this good.
And there you have it. If you follow the above steps, you’ll be hairless as Ron Stoppable’s pet naked mole rat. I can’t help you avoid the inevitable pain and embarrassment, but I can at least prepare you so you know what you’re getting into. Godspeed, and happy waxing!