Project 365 Day 161 through 164

Porch Plans

So, there we sat on my front porch. My friend and I drinking coffee (or wine coolers...) lamenting the state of our legs and the fact that we wished we didn’t have to shave the darn things. And she says, “Models don’t.” To which I replied, “Whuut?” Let’s talk waxing. And I said, “Let’s JUST DO IT!” Okay...so that all sounds pretty cool at the time, until we call to make an appointment and discover you can’t do this with freshly shaved legs (which were what we had). You have to wait until those pesky little hairs are long enough to be grabbed by hot wax and ripped out by the roots with little strips of linen. So we wait. Did I mention it was summertime? So we wait in sweatpants. For those pesky little hairs to grow. And they don’t grow as fast as you think they do. Fast forward. We can’t go in together, so we make almost back-to-back appointments. I went first. Not too bad! Okay...I measure all pain against natural, unmedicated childbirth (which is what I had). So, on that chart, it’s not too bad. And my legs were smooooooth. Worth all of the time I spent in the heat with sweatpants on. And I wouldn’t have to shave them for SIX WEEKS! So then all I had to do was wait for my friend. I waited, and waited, and waited. And waited. She finally pulled up in front of my house, came around her car and I saw her legs...COVERED IN BANDAGES! As it turns out, her Norwegian hairs were not as fine as my WASPy ones. She described them more as tree trunks. And apparently tree trunks hurt more as they are ripped out by their roots attached to cooling wax and linen. And it was a joke. Her legs really didn’t need bandages. But she hasn’t had them waxed since. I have. But not recently. That was 20 years ago, and the amount of leg I show now in the summertime takes me under 2 minutes to shave. And I don’t have to worry about the backs of my knees. It makes me think, though, that I haven’t been on that kind of new adventure in quite some time. I think we can get so comfortable sometimes in what we do that we become old shoes. I don’t like that idea much. I have old shoes in my closet (some from the 1900’s) and I’m thinking I need to get my friend over here for a wine cooler. Time to make some plans.