Pain Is Beauty
I'm sitting in our guest bedroom this weekend, on the bed. My wife is sitting behind me, with elements of a home wax kit strewn all around her.
Rip.
"OWWWW!"
"Sorry. Okay, one, two three..."
Rip.
"AHHH!"
"I know. Ok, ready? One two..."
Rip.
"FUCK!"
That's right. Anne has talked me into letting her wax my back. I'm part Sicilian by ancestry, so excessive body hair runs in the family. Normally, I'm proud of it. Feels macho. But since we're on our way out to a German bath house this afternoon, my wife has finally convinced me it would be good to at least remove the large swaths of dark fur that cover my upper back, between the shoulder blades. She's begged and cajoled me, shamed and teased me, even offered sexual favors in compensation. But in a place where there is a high possibility that we will both be sunbathing nude, my insecurities have at last won the battle. So here I am.
Once, for a Halloween party, Anne convinced me to dress in drag. We shopped for an outfit, and Anne spent at least an hour working on my makeup and nails. The tights constricted my package, the knee-high platform gogo boots were a pain to walk in, and the bra holding my water-balloon breasts tugged painfully at my chest hair. I learned quickly a whole new level of respect for women and the suffering they go through. Even so, I could have dealt with all that.
But dude, this waxing shit has to go.
Rip.
"OW! Sonofa...BITCH!"
"Pain beauty, hun, pain is beauty. Remember that."
I'm pretty sure she's enjoying this.
Rip.
"OWWWW!"
"Sorry. Okay, one, two three..."
Rip.
"AHHH!"
"I know. Ok, ready? One two..."
Rip.
"FUCK!"
That's right. Anne has talked me into letting her wax my back. I'm part Sicilian by ancestry, so excessive body hair runs in the family. Normally, I'm proud of it. Feels macho. But since we're on our way out to a German bath house this afternoon, my wife has finally convinced me it would be good to at least remove the large swaths of dark fur that cover my upper back, between the shoulder blades. She's begged and cajoled me, shamed and teased me, even offered sexual favors in compensation. But in a place where there is a high possibility that we will both be sunbathing nude, my insecurities have at last won the battle. So here I am.
Once, for a Halloween party, Anne convinced me to dress in drag. We shopped for an outfit, and Anne spent at least an hour working on my makeup and nails. The tights constricted my package, the knee-high platform gogo boots were a pain to walk in, and the bra holding my water-balloon breasts tugged painfully at my chest hair. I learned quickly a whole new level of respect for women and the suffering they go through. Even so, I could have dealt with all that.
But dude, this waxing shit has to go.
Rip.
"OW! Sonofa...BITCH!"
"Pain beauty, hun, pain is beauty. Remember that."
I'm pretty sure she's enjoying this.
posted by Milo at 1:19 PM
9 Comments:
*g* I am laughing at you. Yes. Yes I am. (As the proud owner of an epilady, I even have some empathy). But I ain't goin' back to razors.
I would like to see before and after pics please?
Waiting...
*taps foot*
I can symathize with Anne. Hubs is quite a wookie, too. I think negotiations are in order. THIS may be a good place to start them.
And now you know how I feel in high heels. Just remember that when I wear them to look good, the pain and suffering I go through. :)
brave, brave boy.
she IS secretly loving it.
for the record, my legs are quite thick right now. i'm SICK OF FRICKIN SHAVING, and have decided to get the puppies waxed this week.
my first time too.
joy.
you're a brave man. at least she didn't ask to wax your balls. you're a smart man, so i'm sure you know that's not even feasible because of the delicate skin.
You know, I'm quite fond of hot wax; however, I do not use it to RIP out my hairs. i guess one could figure out a way to make that a good time, but...
Did you ever think you'd wear go-go boots and get your nails done? Attention to detail by the missus.
eeep!
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