glory dayz

The night before my 21st birthday

I had blocked this out of my mind COMPLETELY. But I have to write it down before I emotionally block it out again. I had gotten this waxing kit. You melt the wax yourself and stuff and it’s supposed to be painless and there was even a dvd that came with it that was VERY GRAPHIC and had a lot of vag shots. I could not finish the dvd and didn’t read the directions because, like, I’ve seen a lot of tv shows and movies with makeover scenes so, yeah. If I had read the directions I might have done this: melted the wax, turned the temp from high to medium, dipped the tongue depressor to get a little NOT A LOT of wax, lathered it on my vag, applied the muslin strip, held it there for 10 seconds, and then quickly pulled the strip off. What I did instead: kept the temp on high, put a glob on the tongue depressor, covered my vagina with the wax, immediately screamed in pain, and waited too long to apply the muslin strips (the wax was rock hard by the time I stopped crying). I was living alone at the time. Well Holly lived with me but she was always at her boyfriend’s. The plan was to get myself all sexed up for my night of debauchery the next night. Instead I spent 5 hours rubbing olve oil on my vag and cutting away the little hair I had down there from the wax. Alone. Beverly Hills 90210 playing on the television. 

As I get ready for my sister’s wedding I have far less qualms about what I should look like or what I should do for it. I’ll let someone paint my nails and I’ll wear makeup I’ve owned for less than a year BUT THAT’S IT. Not even going to THINK about body hair. Gonna shave my shins but that’s it. Fuck you, American cultural standards of beauty