Another beauty don’t you ever from a reader!


Kelly Sue posted this comment the other day. It’s too good not to have its own dedicated blog posting

This is a true story, that I assure you did NOT happen at BLISS:

When I arrived, my hair removal professional — whom we’ll call Sheila — was on the phone, arguing loudly with her landlord about a rent check. Though I was in the waiting room and she was in the room-room, she was using her “outside voice” and I could hear every word.

Now, I’m one of those people who can discuss bodily functions from sex acts to flatulence without the slightest blush. I am quite literally shameless and occasionally have to be reminded that the people with whom I’m conversing may not be interested in a detailed history of my poops.

Money, however, is not a topic for polite conversation. I can’t even discuss our finances with my husband without squirming. It’s just dirty. And rude. Somehow. I can’t explain it.

So hearing Sheila shriek at her landlord that she ABSOLUTELY was not going to pay his overdraw fee because it was not HER fault that her lousy $100 check caused him to be OVERDRAWN and how could he run a business if a lousy $100 would cause him to be OVERDRAWN anyway and oh yeah he should go f himself! was more than I could comfortably handle. I was already kind of squirmy, anticipating the pain of having my pubes forcibly removed with hot wax. Sheila’s screamy credit report did not put me at ease.

She called me into the back.

For reasons that I cannot begin to understand, as I lay there on the table, buck nekkid save for my white cardigan and pearls, with Sheila at work between my legs, I asked, “How’ve you been?”

“Oh, I have had a week,” she said, and launched into a laundry list of Things Gone Wrong. She bounced a check to her landlord (we knew that), her husband lost his job, her son’s Catholic girlfriend got pregnant, and … and …

She interrupted herself to instruct me, “Knees up.” Simultaneously, she began to sob uncontrollably and depilate my butthole.

I’ve been getting waxed by this woman on a monthly basis for about a year now. I’m pretty sure I know how it’s supposed to go. While I’m certain that on previous visits she has waxed the PROXIMITY of my butthole, I do NOT recall having previously experienced the sensation of hot wax on my ACTUAL BUTTHOLE.

Not that it was entirely unpleasant, mind you, I’m just saying it was new. And frankly, I was a little worried. Isn’t that a super-delicate membrane? If something goes wrong, will I have to have a skingraft from my lips? I seem to remember hearing that in middle school at some point.

Anyway, she was crying and I was concerned for the wellbeing of my butthole.

“My d-d-dog d-d-died,” she cried. Her face was bright red, her eyes were tiny slits, her shoulders were bouncing up and down a full four inches per sob. And yet, she kept working.

Poor little Charlie, a four-pound yorkie who never did anything to anyone but love them, had somehow managed to hop up into the car as Sheila’s husband was unloading groceries. Once unloaded, the car doors were shut and poor little four-pound Charlie who never did anything to anyone but love them, was locked in a four-door oven for 7 hours. By the time they found him, he was bleeding from his nose, brain damaged and cooked from the inside out. They rushed him to the vet and sat vigil all night long. But poor little four-pound Charlie who never did anything to anyone but love them, didn’t pull through.

Sheila was overcome. She was also, at last, finished defuzzing my bum. She stopped and stood there between my knees, head in hand, sobbing, sniffing and repeating, “I’m sorry.”

What exactly is the proper etiquette for comforting someone when you’re naked from the waist down?

“This is going to be weird,” I said, “because I’m not wearing panties, but c’mere.” I sat up and Sheila stepped in and we hugged. As she wept, I patted her head and tried to think of anything but Charlie.

“I’m sorry,” she said again. “But you were very hairy down there.”


Kelly Sue, thank you for sharing….over-sharing…whatever we’ll call this. We love you! We got such a chuckle out of this one. Hope you have an absolutely blissful day!

This entry was posted in Bliss Beauty Blog, reader content, spa and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Another beauty don’t you ever from a reader!

  1. Amanda says:

    I just spewed water all over my computer screen.

  2. Hilarious, hilarious story. You had a good heart about it– I probably would have rescheduled as soon as I heard that phone call:)

    A quick addition to the bad wax stories. I recently moved and was looking on Yelp! for a good Brazilian wax in the DC area. A spa in “North Bethesda” (which is the yuppie term for good old Rockville, Maryland) had positive reviews for their allegedly painless bikini wax, so I made an appointment and went in for my Brazilian.

    I don’t think my esthetician had ever administered a bikini wax in her life. And I certainly don’t think she’d experienced a good one. What I received was a jumble of hard waxes in the wrong zones, but the worst of it was an application of strip wax (notice it’s supposed to be applied in strips) in a big rectangle, ripped off sideways and followed by a comment that “I probably wouldn’t bruise.” (I did.)

    The toughest part was, she was so super nice! As I fought back the tears I tried to politely nod while she told me all about growing up in Ukraine, her husband, and working in an American spa. The woman was a total marketing professional who seemed to think below-the-belt hair removal was like frosting a cake. I had to cut the visit short. My Brazilian was now a bikini cleanup.

    As I stumbled, cowboy-legged, to the front counter– my underwear zone a mess of fuzz patches and bald spot– my Ukranian friend cheerfully twittered, “You’ll just bill her for a bikini wax. We didn’t do the full Brazilian.” And smiled at me as she left to clean the room. When the receptionist asked how it went, I didn’t have the heart to give a full review! I just smiled and eked out, “she was really nice, maybe she could do smaller patches?” before I paid my bill and went to the car.

    Moral: Find a good waxer and stick with her! I will now drive back up to Baltimore every six weeks to see Zina in Canton. There’s no substitute!

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