Thursday, July 28, 2005

Assault by Waxing

In preparation for the wedding this weekend, I went to get my legs waxed today. The waxer was JoAnn and she has a vendetta against all leg hair. I suspect that either her mother, firstborn or whole family were killed because of excess leg hair. Like Anigo Montoyo she has spent her life practicing her craft so that she exact her revenge on all leg hair. Or maybe she was just dumped by the object of her love for having Chewbacca legs. Whatever her reason–she showed no mercy as she sought and destroyed all of my leg hairs.

Waxing has been my only method of hair removal for ten years. The slight initial pain has long since faded and I usually find getting my legs waxed relaxing. Not So today. There were moments that actually could be described as painful. Most of the time it was just amazingly intense. The salon was very cold, so my skin was already tight, upon which hot wax was smeared, then muslin strips which she leaned her whole body weight into and rubbed frantically, followed by the tearing sensation caused sensory overload. She jerked, bent and manipulated my legs with complete dominance and control–none of her actions demonstrated that she knew or cared that my legs and skin were actually part of a human being. I was on edge and all of my muscles were tense. Tactile overload is the only way to describe this sensation–each time I got tattooed I also experience this phenomeon whereby I just craved relief from the sensation, even though it wasn’t painful.

The exuberance and speed that JoAnn demonstrated was impressive. She was violent and intentful in her mission to deforest my legs. Her face was set in concentration and her eyes ever-diligent against a renegrade hair that might escape her fury. I fully expected to see pricks of blood appearing at my ravaged pores.

"Do you want bikini wax, too?" Oh dear God No. NO!

Are you crazy woman? Only a masochistic lunatic would allow your single-minded assault against hair to turn its wrath upon her pubic region. I know without a doubt that was I to permit your Auschwitz-styled sensitivity and efficiency near my tender parts that I would be bruised and pained for days. Hell. No. JoAnn’s deft hands would have rendered my bike seat into an instrument of torture.

Thankfully she was as fast as she was violent. I have waited in line at Chipotle longer than it took her to violate every follicle on my legs.

It is now almost two hours later and the heat and bumps from JoAnn’s assault have subsided. I am now experiencing the strangest sensations–my legs are tingling. While I have complete control and feeling in this skin, I have the sense that my skin is vibrating. Hard to describe but it is reminiscent of the muted feeling after hitting a ball with an aluminum bat, pushing a lawn mower all day, or that preliminary feeling before the ‘pins and needles’ when a limb that fell asleep starts to awaken. If this feeling had a sound it would either be a soft buzz, or the tail end of a tuning fork being struck. When I concentrate on this sensation it seems to intensify and spread.

Very, very bizarre. Maybe I should have gotten the bikini wax after all.


At 11:58 PM, Blogger equipoise said...

Are you familiar with the "phantom limb" phenomenom, when an amputee still "feels" the missing limb?

I think you're experiencing the lesser known "phantom hair" phenomenon.

At 3:16 AM, Anonymous Anonymous said...

I know this makes me sound like a meanie, but man, I loved your telling of this story.

At 5:00 PM, Blogger Nathan said...

I'm with anonymous here. Your word choice was impeccable! :)


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