I’m not going to spend the next couple of minutes moaning about how hard it is to be a woman and how I feel suppressed in this ugly world run by men. I quite like men, and considering my current laziness, they can run it all they want. But running the world or not, being a woman in today’s day and age is, oh, so hard…
The other day I went for my regular wax. That means I dress up in something lose, preferably a skirt and no undies but that is risky, so usually a skirt with undies. After a ten minute walk, trying to be as discreet as possible to avoid anyone seeing my hairy legs, I get to the waxing place which I still don’t know the name of, at Shopping Eldorado. Finally I am at a place where being hairy is accepted, but I can never help myself but to excuse my hairiness to the poor lady who is about to begin her work.
When I came to São Paulo and went for my first wax here I was sure to make a note on the little card of the persons name, so that next time I could book an appointment with the same person. Unfortunately I never remember to book, so I have now been there three times and seen three different ladies. That means there are three people other than my husband in São Paulo who have seen a lot more of me than I was hoping for.
I was having coffee with a new found friend, a fellow Swede, here in São Paulo last week and told her for whatever good reason that I wax. She looked at me with big blue scared eyes and asked “do you have to stand on all four?” I knew exactly what she meant. Because that is the kind of thing many women do to please the world around us. We stand on all four whilst another lady, who chose this profession may I add, puts steaming hot wax around your privates. When I was first asked to stand on all fours I thought, “how odd”.
Then I thought “oh shit”.
Thankfully the place I go to here don’t have the “all four” tactic, so I feel slightly less exposed. But still there is always a kind of anxiousness coming over me when I lie there on my back with the skirt pulled up to my neck. I imagine all sorts of embarrassing things that could happen in that room. What if, when you lie there with wax in your bum, you accidentally fart. Will it make an embarrassing sound, or maybe just a little bubble, like a chewing gum?
When they are done with the torturing I get dressed quickly and leave. And if the walk there was awkward trying to hide those hairy legs, the walk back is equally awkward as those undies always seem to get stuck in a piece of wax that was conveniently forgotten at the worse place imaginable.
Oh, and just as you think you are done, the little torturer asks whether she should take the toes too…. Oh gee, thanks, so I have hairy toes now too?! Oh well fine, get on with it…