S - “You know what the scariest thing in the world is? Two Thai women in masks standing over your vagina in an apron with scissors, a comb, and a stick of wax. It’s terrifying.”
H - “Why did yours have scissors?”
S - “So they could cut off the wax”
Me - "Why were they cutting the wax off?"
H - “My girls would rip the wax off then cringed. Seriously, the look on this woman’s face made me think she was tearing off my skin.”
S – "I think the wax was bad. I think I’m bleeding."
Me – "Explain to me why there were two women in the room?"
S - "The wax must have been bad."
H – "There’s no way they have ever done that before. I mean, they just ripped it all out in the most painful way"
S – "One of them was just pressing on my hips pinning me to the table. I couldn’t have left even if I wanted to."
H – "Give me a cigarette"
S – "I’m definitely bleeding."
This is a snip of the conversation that ensued when I met up with H and S after their bikini wax. I was standing in the bookstore and when I turned around there was H, looking like a feral dog all hunched over and hair disheveled. S stood behind her looking the part of the wounded dog. The dragged me outside to tell me the tale of their waxing. In short, two women came in and just started putting wax on either side of their bodies while one woman held them down. Then they just started ripping. If you’ve never gotten a wax before, I can assure you that this is not how it’s suppose to happen. I did my best to sympathize with them but mostly I was just bursting into laughter. The two of them looked terrible. H like she had just been ambushed and was mentally preparing herself for another attack that could pop out from around the Christmas tree at any second and S seemed to be in shock.
With hostels booked on beaches for the next two long weekends the three of us had set out to the behemoth that is Paradise at The Mall in search of a salon that could accommodate the needs of beach bound farangs. In the course of our search we got separated and I ended up buying a camera while the H and S said they found a salon. The salon could only do H and S that night so I set out to ask around the other salons.
1st Salon
Me – Bikini wax?
Them – No, no.
2nd Salon
Me – Bikini wax?
Them – 1,500 baht.
Me – Buh-bye.
3rd Salon
Me – Wax?
Them – Area?
Me – Bikini
Them – Downstairs. Yves Rocher.
I’m guessing that is what the woman said. What it sounded like was “wostar. *thai babble* rocheear” It took me a half an hour to find it. Turns out it was nice little French boutique where the manager spoke perfect English. I made an appointment for the following day.
Fifteen minutes later I met up with H and S and began having serious doubts. There scenario sounded a lot like an episode of “Tales from the Crypt.” But this was essential to my beach happiness so I returned to The Mall the following day. I may have heard the Crypt-Keeper’s laughter as I was walking.
My suspicions were lifted the second we got started. Only one woman entered the tiny room and after the first rip I could tell this was not her first rodeo. The only English she knew was "too hot?" and "ouch?" She gave me some disposable underwear, positioned my legs that were hanging off the very small table and put on her mask (no gloves which I did my best to ignore but she did wash her hands many times).
It took about twenty minutes and by then she had removed her mask, cut off the underwear and had whiffed twice. The whiffs were my fault, though. The salon was blaring that Michael Bolton song where he wants to know how he’s suppose to live without someone followed by “Wind Beneath my Wings” and I kept thinking about H and S and the fucking Crypt-Keeper so I got a mad case of the giggles which caused her to miss.
When all was said and done I wished I knew the Thai for “thank you for not violating me.” Instead I exchanged wai (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thai_greeting) with her and gave her 100 baht tip.
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