Just sitting on a bag of peas and minding my own business.....

What ?

Listen. Today I performed the ultimate sacrifice....I got a bikini wax. (I typed bikini "ax" and boy, was that accurate.)

Bikini waxes are totally worth it. They are worth the 10 minutes of torture that I have to suffer (and let's just all say a silent prayer of thanks that it only takes 10 minutes...I am lucky that way.) I hate the process, but once it is over, and I have hobbled home with my clothes stuck to the leftover wax, and applied anough baby powder to keep my skin dry and smooth FOREVER AND EVER I love the results.

But every time I get a bikini wax, I am reminded of a waxing experience that went much less smoothly. (No pun intended, but there you go).

I got my back waxed once.

Now HANG ON JUST A SECOND. I do NOT have a lot of back hair, and the back wax was completely unecessary, and I only did it because it was suggested to me, and I was concerned that it was suggested because it was necessary, and that is exactly what the aesthetician was hoping for - to feed on my insecurities, and get me worried about the completely innocuous amount of peachfuzz that every person has covering their back.

And let this be a lesson to you - waxing is for real, ya'll. If you do not NEED to wax, you should NOT WAX. Because if you do, your body can (and probably will) serve you up a heaping dose of retribution. This can happen in many ways. The hair may grow back thicker and darker (so that you actually DO have to wax forevermore). The skin may get rashy, dicolored, or slightly burned.

Or, you could end up with what I had.....an entire back completely covered with a pimply rash that no amount of powder, cream, Benadryl or makeup could disguise.

So, that low backed dress that my aesthetician was worried would highlight my "back hair", of which as I have mentioned, I have NONE, instead prominently displayed what can only be described as an incredibly unattractive and unflattering breakout - the likes of which I have never (thank GOD) experienced again.

I was mortified, and it was such a lesson to me. Let it be a lesson to you.

For more tales of aesthetic mishap, please revisit the time I burned my cooter off.