If you’ve ever delved into the prickly world of hair removal, you’re probably quite familiar with the painful form of torture that we know today as waxing. Shouts out to all the little pieces of bloody flesh that have been ripped from desperate bodies over the years.
Hey, I get it — shaving can leave hella razor bumps and it’s hard to get back into the bum hole crevice without some serious skill. And bless your little heart if Nair is still your hair removal go-to. I tried that sh*t once when I was eleven and still have nightmares about the smell. Also, the 90s called — they want their cotton candy colored goo back.
And while we’re too busy thinking of that little strip of paper that’s about to rip off our pubic hair, we forget about the other side. We forget about the person behind the tub of wax. The person whose job it is to perpetually get ladies (and gentlemen) naked and spread eagle all up in their face. We forget that not all women shower after going to the gym. We forget that estheticians have to deal with some of the rankest, smelliest, and most disgusting bodily fluids that seep from unwashed genitals. And they have to do it all while acting professional and trying not to throw up. My hats (and hair) off to you.
If you can get through all 25 of these stories without gagging, you might have a future in waxing:
BRB while my vagina cringes.