A Lady’s Guide to Waxing Part Two

You may recall, especially if you have nothing better to do than sit around in your beanbag chair all day reading crotchety feminist blogs in your underoos, that I previously did a guide to self-waxing featuring the Nair sugar wax kit and titled it “A Lady’s Guide to Waxing,” aimed toward all those of you who wish to remove your body hair in as quick and painful a way as possible.

Pictured: You, probably. Weirdo.

Pictured: You, probably. Weirdo.

Well, friends, it seems that I must update the LGtW, for I have sad news.

A few weeks ago, I had cultivated a beautiful crop of leg hair in anticipation of an impending waxing. However, I had ventured out to multiple stores in pursuit of the Nair wax: Target, Walmart, CVS, the grocery store. None of them carried it.

Nair apparently no longer makes that kind of wax. Or at least, I cannot find it in any store. For the sake of transparency, I will disclose that I found it on Amazon – for 30 bones a pop. Ain’t NOBODY got that kind of green to spend on self-grooming.

Now, I didn’t grow out my leg hair for two solid weeks for nothing, and something had to be done about it. Putting on leggings was like dragging a Kleenex against a cactus.

So, at my last stop, which happened to be Walmart, I picked up something else: Nad’s Body Wax Strips. I should have known to steer clear of a product named after a male sex organ. I should have been wiser. I should have thought twice. But I am here to tell you that I saw the Nad’s, and I bought the Nad’s, and the Nad’s have fucked me for the last time.

When you open the package, what you’ll see is a bunch of strips of paper. When you peel back the paper, it reveal the wax lurking within. The instructions say that before you begin, you must “rub strips vigorously between your hands.” I can only presume that this charade is to get the wax strips to warm up. As you can imagine, rubbing them between my perpetually icy hands did absolutely nothing toward this endeavor. I ended up resting them underneath my laptop for a few minutes rather than sit there rubbing my hands together like a complete psychopath.

All I need is a white cat to stroke.

All I need is a white cat to stroke.

As per the instructions, I peeled the paper off of a strip and laid it over a portion of my skin. I smoothed it down ferociously, making sure every inch of it was stuck to my leg. Then I screwed up my courage and ripped.

Ladies, I am not bullshitting you. LITERALLY SIX HAIRS came off on this fucking wax strip. The other ninety-four hairs were still firmly planted in my leg. I tried again with the next strip. The same exact thing happened. On the bright side, it was not taking my skin off or leaving globs of wax all over me – but it was utterly ineffectual.

Like I said, I had not grown out two weeks worth of hair for nothing, so you’d better believe I used the whole goddamn box. I swear to you, not a single wax strip took off more than ten hairs. Not only that, but it turned out that I didn’t even really have enough strips to do both my legs, even without going above the knee, and let me assure you that I do not somehow possess gigantic, elephantine legs. After an hour of wasted time, I was left with legs that were both hairy and slightly sticky.

Clearly, I was ready for my hot date with Prince Harry.

Clearly, I was ready for my hot date with Prince Harry.

I ended up attempting to pluck the remainder, then giving up after realizing the magnitude of the task and just shaving, weeping silently but steadily.

The moral of the story?

Don’t be like me.

Avoid Nad’s at all costs.

Never talk to strangers.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket.

And always give 110%.

Wait, what?


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