WARNING: Contains personal info rmation some my consider an "over-share". Lighten up and laugh!
Pain is Weakness Leaving the Body
This music is not so soothing. And I am all turned around because they’ve switched the furniture and changed rooms. The dozen smells that fill my nose are so pleasant they’re almost nauseating. “Alana? If you will just follow me.”
I pry myself out of the soft couch that has swallowed half my body and follow a young woman to the back room. She and I are standing in a room with a giant mirror on one side and a corner full of cosmetic things. She points to the disposable underwear on the table.
“Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Coffee? Espresso?”
“A glass of water would be awesome”. I say hoping she would return with a stiff drink, just to numb the pain a little.
I take my pants off throw them over a chair catching a glimpse of my ass in the mirror. I make a mental note to run just a little harder next week. I stare at the disposable underwear wondering why other women would even bother putting them on. I wrap myself in a little towel and hop on the paper lined table. The young woman knocks and enters with a small glass of water. I am lying on the bed trying to be causal despite knowing my fate. She starts the small talk while testing the temperature of the wax on her wrist.
“So do you have anything planned for the weekend?”
“No not really, I work all weekend”. I let a deep breath out. I sit up to drink my non-alcoholic beverage. It goes down roughly.
She lifts up the towel exposing me, examines her work canvas and sprinkles on some powder. It feels cool to the touch. She is telling me all about her weekend and I don’t hear a word. She turns to get some red wax on the oversized popsicle stick in her hand. She looks at me and smiles
“Okay, I’m going to get started.”
And I’m going to cry. I forget what it feels like until that first pull; then it all comes back like the memory of a bad dream. She continues to talk about whatever and I hope that those two Advil’s that I took before I got here have started their wonderful work of pain relieving. The young woman doesn’t give me any warning when she rips the hair from my bikini area. I have a urge to scream, but don’t. She presses down on the area to reduce the pain. I wish she would hug me. She continues on blabbing. I nod and acknowledge that I am listening, despite not. She continues to talk and rip, talk and rip. She laughs at her own jokes: ha-ha-ha, rip-rip-rip. She moves into wax the more tender parts of me. Sometimes the wax is thick; therefore very stuck to my skin. When she rips it away, I want to punch her. She rips another portion away. I see white. After each piece, I give myself a little pep talk about being the toughest person in the world. Rrrrip. I am having the hair ripped from my body using hot wax and a wooden stick. Rrrrip. My boyfriend better fucking appreciate this. Rrrrrip. The Advil aren’t working. Rrrrrrrrip.
Finally, she stops long enough for me to open my eyes. My eyes struggle to adjust to the light.
“The worst is over”. She says to comfort me.
I still want to punch her.
“But I need you to turn over”.
She doesn’t laugh at this statement but I do. I can’t believe I am paying money for this. Women in other cultures would think I’m nuts. Nuts, but tough.
I roll onto my side and do as she says. She starts talking again, this time about how she likes to watch Ultimate Fighting Championships while she waxes my behind.
“I don’t know what it is, but I think they are the most in-shape and well rounded athletes ever.”
I agree with her.
“They are, like, so tough”.
She yanks away another section of hair. I breathe in slowly through my teeth making a low hissing sound. My eyes water. I recall the UFC fights that I’ve seen in the past. Those fighters get so beat up: their eyes swell shut from being hit, they bleed from their skin being split open, bones are broken, ribs are kneed in, and egos are fed. But I cannot think of a single UFC fighter, in any weight category, that would willingly have the hair from their genitals torn from their body using hot wax and NOT cry like a little baby. These Ultimate Fighters would not be so ultimate after a little genital hair pulling. I am lying here, spread apart on this table inviting a stranger to tear the hair away from my lady parts in a violent display of esthetical practice. This makes me tougher than a UFC fighter, hands down.
The young woman pulls her last piece and this time, I don’t even move.
“Okay you’re done. Was that so bad?
“Nope. Piece of cake.”
I pry myself out of the soft couch that has swallowed half my body and follow a young woman to the back room. She and I are standing in a room with a giant mirror on one side and a corner full of cosmetic things. She points to the disposable underwear on the table.
“Can I get you anything to drink? Tea? Coffee? Espresso?”
“A glass of water would be awesome”. I say hoping she would return with a stiff drink, just to numb the pain a little.
I take my pants off throw them over a chair catching a glimpse of my ass in the mirror. I make a mental note to run just a little harder next week. I stare at the disposable underwear wondering why other women would even bother putting them on. I wrap myself in a little towel and hop on the paper lined table. The young woman knocks and enters with a small glass of water. I am lying on the bed trying to be causal despite knowing my fate. She starts the small talk while testing the temperature of the wax on her wrist.
“So do you have anything planned for the weekend?”
“No not really, I work all weekend”. I let a deep breath out. I sit up to drink my non-alcoholic beverage. It goes down roughly.
She lifts up the towel exposing me, examines her work canvas and sprinkles on some powder. It feels cool to the touch. She is telling me all about her weekend and I don’t hear a word. She turns to get some red wax on the oversized popsicle stick in her hand. She looks at me and smiles
“Okay, I’m going to get started.”
And I’m going to cry. I forget what it feels like until that first pull; then it all comes back like the memory of a bad dream. She continues to talk about whatever and I hope that those two Advil’s that I took before I got here have started their wonderful work of pain relieving. The young woman doesn’t give me any warning when she rips the hair from my bikini area. I have a urge to scream, but don’t. She presses down on the area to reduce the pain. I wish she would hug me. She continues on blabbing. I nod and acknowledge that I am listening, despite not. She continues to talk and rip, talk and rip. She laughs at her own jokes: ha-ha-ha, rip-rip-rip. She moves into wax the more tender parts of me. Sometimes the wax is thick; therefore very stuck to my skin. When she rips it away, I want to punch her. She rips another portion away. I see white. After each piece, I give myself a little pep talk about being the toughest person in the world. Rrrrip. I am having the hair ripped from my body using hot wax and a wooden stick. Rrrrip. My boyfriend better fucking appreciate this. Rrrrrip. The Advil aren’t working. Rrrrrrrrip.
Finally, she stops long enough for me to open my eyes. My eyes struggle to adjust to the light.
“The worst is over”. She says to comfort me.
I still want to punch her.
“But I need you to turn over”.
She doesn’t laugh at this statement but I do. I can’t believe I am paying money for this. Women in other cultures would think I’m nuts. Nuts, but tough.
I roll onto my side and do as she says. She starts talking again, this time about how she likes to watch Ultimate Fighting Championships while she waxes my behind.
“I don’t know what it is, but I think they are the most in-shape and well rounded athletes ever.”
I agree with her.
“They are, like, so tough”.
She yanks away another section of hair. I breathe in slowly through my teeth making a low hissing sound. My eyes water. I recall the UFC fights that I’ve seen in the past. Those fighters get so beat up: their eyes swell shut from being hit, they bleed from their skin being split open, bones are broken, ribs are kneed in, and egos are fed. But I cannot think of a single UFC fighter, in any weight category, that would willingly have the hair from their genitals torn from their body using hot wax and NOT cry like a little baby. These Ultimate Fighters would not be so ultimate after a little genital hair pulling. I am lying here, spread apart on this table inviting a stranger to tear the hair away from my lady parts in a violent display of esthetical practice. This makes me tougher than a UFC fighter, hands down.
The young woman pulls her last piece and this time, I don’t even move.
“Okay you’re done. Was that so bad?
“Nope. Piece of cake.”
HAHAHHAHA As soon as I saw the disclaimer I knew it would be a post worth reading.
ReplyDeleteI absolutely love the comparison between your lady parts being waxed and UFC fighters. Guys do not realise how much we go through to be as lovely as we are.. and I love how you outlined that as well. I think that this post wasn't just entertaining but poked fun at the amount of pain a woman goes through throughout their lives and it's not even for our own personal benefit. For the majority of the tiume it's for guys; and what do guys go through for us??? diddly squat!!
I love how you talked about how you were feeling as each strip was torn off your body - it was a good way to make the reader relate to what you were feeling.
The one thing that I would like to point out though is that I was able to guess what was going to happen when you mentioned the disposable underwear - I think it would have been even more effective if you with held that information, or at least gave it to us a little bit later in the post to build tension.
Otherwise, it was an awesome post and I used it as a learning tool for me, as I am still trying to fully grasp what tools and sequences I should personally use in creative non-fiction stories.
Thanks!!
Can't wait to read your next post!!
Colleen
You know all to well how to make a piece humourous and overall awesome. I am jealous of how funny you are. I agree, being a woman takes strength. I agree with Colleen that to be a bit more effective, secretiveness would work very well. I love watching UFC so I found this post absolutely hilarious. Great job and keep up the good work.
ReplyDelete