HOME MADE WAX

HOME MADE WAX ITS VERY EASY AND CHEEP

. Waxing in itself is horrible enough, and that is someone else ripping out your body hairs by the follicle. So doing it yourself? That’s got to be worse, right? I mean, I’m picturing Dr. Quinn, Medicine Woman setting her own broken arm or giving herself stitches, without even the aid of a shot of brandy (because vaguely Christian lady doctors don’t do that shit, y’all). Not cool.

But I decided to give it a go. Mostly because it involved me growing out my leg hair for weeks. Any excuse not to shave my legs, guys. (I’m sexy and I know it.)

I opted for the microwave version instead of the candy thermometer anal-retentive version, just so you know.

Basically, the recipe involves mixing the ingredients (sugar, honey, lemon) and zapping them in the microwave, which even I can handle. It looked like this when it was done cooking.

Looks like applesauce, tastes like the nectar of the Gods, I am not joking. Yeah, I tasted it. What? Also, it only required the juice of half a lemon, so the other half of that lemon’s juice went in a Tom Collins for me. If you’re going to ask me to rip my own leg hairs out, I’m having a drink. Don’t judge me, Dr. Quinn.

I was somewhat dubious about the whole experiment once the mixture had cooled to room temperature.

Also, I couldn’t figure out what to use for the fabric strips. I settled on a shop towel. Mostly because that’s what I had.

Drink and sugaring sugar in hand, I headed for the bathtub. I figured if I was going to get sugary mess all over everything, the bathtub would be the easiest place to clean it up. Also, if I decided to drink a bunch of Tom Collins, I could just stay there and sleep it off.

I sugared myself up and pressed on a strip of shop towel.

And then I stared at it for a really long time. I told myself I was letting it dry. Or cure. Or something. But mostly I was just drinking my drink and screwing up my courage. There may have been lady-having-contractions breathing going on while I psyched myself up. I may have shed a single, terrified tear. And then I ripped.

It kinda hurt. But not as much as I was expecting– which is good, because not as much hair came out as I was expecting, either. I think I counted… one. That’s right, one tiny leg hair on the entire strip.

Can you see the one leg hair? It’s like Where’s Waldo, only disgusting.

In the name of science, I decided to try again. Emboldened by the fact that it didn’t hurt as much as I thought it would, I decided to rip harder. (heehee) I gave myself a countdown. 1… 2… RIP– OW! That one hurt like fucking hell. I whimpered and poured a little Tom Collins on it and then checked the strip for hairs.

Click to enlarge so you can see the leg hair. (Why would you DO that?)

Success! Or so I thought. Then I looked at my leg. The cloth strip, though it was holding a significant proportion of my leg hair, had not done a complete job on the strip of leg from which it was ripped. There were hairs remaining. This was very disappointing. I might be willing to painfully rip out my leg hairs a one-inch strip at a time if it meant less shaving, if I could be guaranteed that all the leg hairs would actually get pulled out. But no.

I tried a few more strips, more out of curiosity than anything else, and also because I rewarded myself with a sip of my drink every time I ripped off a towel strip. But, ultimately, I gave up because it was taking too long and my butt was falling asleep from sitting on the edge of the tub and also because I ran out of towel strips and was not about to wash them all and start over.

Also, shop towels? Not a good option, in case you’re planning to try this.

(That’s pieces of towel on my leg. And do not judge my bathtub. It’s not dirty, I promise, but the douche-nozzle who lived in my house before I did apparently thought it was appropriate to wash out paint brushes in the tub and just leave the splatters there for the next homeowner.)

If you’re going to try this for real, I will tell you that the sugary stuff is surprisingly easy to wash off, even when drunk. Water soluble and all that jazz. So, go ahead, try it. I’m going to get a spoon and eat the rest of mine.