The process proceeded thusly this morning:
Greet random stranger.
Get told to take off my trousers.
Hop onto table and get awkwardly positioned as instructed.
Random chit-chat is commenced by waxer as she proceeds to violate my nether region.
I respond with short, terse replies as I grit my teeth each time she yanks back on the waxing strip.
She finishes one side and asks me if it looks all right. I look down and notice I’m bleeding where she just waxed. Since this doesn’t seem to faze her, I assume it’s normal. I reply that it (assuming she meant the carnage) looks fine. She proceeds to torture my other side.
I’m to the point where it hurts so much I fear I’ll have permanent lockjaw. Trying to stop audible sucking in of air through teeth as each strip is pulled because it makes me sound like Hannibal the Cannibal talking about eating someone’s liver with fava beans and a nice chianti.
I joke about being too scared to get a full bikini wax. She, in all seriousness, replies, “Well, it does hurt a lot.” Sweet baby jebus.
Left alone in painful glory to get repantsed.
Pay her for the honor of torturing me then leave, relieved to have gotten my run in early this morning so as not to have to worry about chafing my now sensitive crotchal area later today.
There endeth the bikini wax.
- - - - -
Last night I had another long-ass workout at the gym. Body Combat followed by two miles on the mill then a 30 minute strength training class. I cranked out 3 x 400 m at 8:31 pace and proceeded to demoralize the weightlifter dude on the treadmill next to me with my bursts of speediness. I was sure he was going to give himself whiplash with the number of times he kept looking at my machine’s console. Heh.
My first swim lesson is tomorrow afternoon. I’ll let you know how it goes next week. That is if I don’t drown.
Have a great weekend, everyone.