Waxing lyrical

For some completely unknown reason I have yet again subjected myself to the nightmare that is The Home Wax. I don’t what it is about this, I know it’s going to hurt, I know that it’s not going to work as well as in a salon and I know that it’s going to get messy, but every few months I think I’ll wax instead of shave.

There’s so much choice out there and who really knows the difference. I could pick the pot of wax to melt in the microwave but this scares me and I have visions of having to go to A+E with third degree burns! So I end up with the strips. These things are strange, two strips of waxy paper that I have to ‘warm gently between my hands’ to melt it enough to rip the hair out by the roots. How the hell is this going to work? But each time I forget about the trauma from last time and take myself off to the bathroom to prepare for the torture. I follow the instructions carefully, check the ‘direction of the hair growth’ and prepare the first strip. It appears I have wiped out the rest from my memory. The next thing I know I’m sporting a rather patchy bikini line, with very attractive red blotches, somehow I have a strip attached to my foot and when I glance in the mirror I have the look a woman who has just done serious battle. I have been having flashbacks about what happened during the actual waxing, but it is too traumatic for me to write about…

Tonight is the night of the dinner courtesy of Miss Nice As Pie. Various texts have been flying back and forth and she is very excited about treating us to her culinary experimentation. Apparently she has decided what we will be eating, but she won’t let us know; she wants to surprise us! I will be picking up a couple of bottles of wine on the way. Obviously there is no ulterior motive here, its good manners to bring something to a dinner party!