I’ve always been curious to try body waxing, but I wasn’t brave enough.
Before I delve into this adventure, let me preface by saying that YES, I know some of you guys are jumping on the “natural hair movement.” Manscaping is going out of style and guys are once again embracing their right to have ball hair that hangs down to their ankles. If that makes you happy, I applaud you. But you’ve got your Bear Week in Provincetown where you can all run around naked and celebrate your hairiness, so shut the fuck up. I don’t want any comments from guys complaining about my interest in waxing my chest.
So as I was saying… I’ve been interested in waxing but the closest I got was a small patch of hair. It was last spring when Daniel dabbed a little bit of hot wax on my chest, ripped off maybe three hairs total, and I went running into a corner, curled up and cried. Yeah, it was awful. Body wax is Satan’s hot molten lava.
Today, I was feeling inspired and brave, so I got out the jar of Sally Hansen Express Wax. It’s white chocolate scented, for whatever that’s worth. Mmmm… It smells like I’m in a candy shop when all the delicate hairs are being ripped from my skin. How relaxing. Next time I’m at a fondue fountain, the aroma is going to trigger some deeply hidden trauma and I’ll run out of the building screaming, “It burns, it burns!!!”
That bitch on the cover acts like she’s so happy. “Hey, look how comfortable I am. I smell like white chocolate, blood, and tears, and I can’t move my arms or legs. So I’m just going to sit here and smile until I can muster up the strength to crawl into bed and die.” Yeah, it’s like that.
Despite the horrendous pain and after burn, I managed to wax most of my chest and even some of my stomach. Considering I was doing it myself, I’d say that’s pretty impressive… Especially for a guy who hardly survived having a few hairs pulled out last time he tried.
So now I can finally say that I’ve given body waxing a try. I like how it looks, but I hated the process. Ouch.