Today held such promise. New business, new prospects, new possibilities – all in all a day that was planned ahead of time and it was all systems go. Until I telephoned my clients only to be asked to reschedule them as, our country has a strike on and this has prevented the staff from getting to work because there was not transport. I shake my head at this. This strike will cost the people who are striking a lot more than what they are asking for in a pay increase, as it is a strike without pay and the ripple effect on the economy can amount o Millions in losses or Billions.
We managed to have a successful World Cup Soccer and against all odds and to everyone’s surprise it was without our normal disgusting crime. Overall, other than Paris Hilton blocking the runway at King Shaka Airport, thereby preventing the Johannesburg fans from being able to land and watch the game – all went according to plan. I have to add that somehow leaders found places of refuge for the street children during this time and the hobos and beggars were also given a place of safety and shelter during the month of the World Cup Soccer. No sooner were the tourists on their planes leaving the country when our streets were overrun with street children and hobos once again. My question is a simple and obvious one…. Why can we not provide a place of safety and shelter for these children and broken souls who become hobos for various reasons? We created a false image, no one is flying the South African flag anymore, and nothing was learnt from this wonderful experience. We were so proud of our country and in a blink of an eye; we are on different sides of the fence once again. Us versus them – and who the them is depends on what your political ideals are and your financial status. Very sad indeed. Just my thought for the day and I felt it was important to share!
I was not aware of the pending cancellations of appointments so I was looking forward to a full day. The daily routine of doing my hair was no mammoth task today and I actually felt quite confident and satisfied with the results. Add to this that it is a rainy day here in Durban so the moist hair usually makes this battle of the fizz a lost battle. Not today, today my hair behaved and actually listened to my instructions. Yes, I talk to my hair; I mean Prince Charles talks to his plants, so why can’t I talk to my hair. Alternatively, yell at it or admonish it depending on my mood – but miracles of miracles today was not one of those days. Smooth sleek and behaving for a change. I visited my miracle worker Michael my newly found hair dresser earlier this week and he decided I need a little bit more brightening up and added a lot more highlights. I think my walking in there looking like something the cat had just dragged in out of the rubbish bin may have had something to do with this. I sat down in his chair of tricks and told him that he had left the fringe without a highlight in the front section that made it look horrid when I pulled my hair back with my sunglasses. Hard to explain in writing, he had not pulled the high light cream through to the roots in the fringe and this created a definite stripe brown and blond. This was just a comment I made to him. I am now sporting a very nice blond fringe section and I have to say it works for me.
Well I think you may have guessed by now that not much has happened this week other than work work work, and no I am not going to lament about my hair and daily struggle to tame this monster. I am going to talk about mid-life changes. I received a very good Skype from my friend about the changes we experience in mid life and a while back I received an excellent mail about the torture we woman put ourselves through. This is going to be a mixture of mid-life, and being a woman and the things we do to make ourselves more appealing. I have touched on this before but I think it is a good time to reflect.-0-
THIS IS HYSTERICAL!
All hair removal methods have tricked women with their promises of easy, painless removal - The Epilady, scissors, razors, Nair and now...the wax. Read on.........
My night began as any other normal weeknight. Come home, fix dinner, play with the kids. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next few hours: 'Maybe I should pull the waxing kit out of the medicine cabinet.'
So I headed to the site of my demise: the bathroom. It was one of those 'cold wax' kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the strips together in your hand, they get warm and you peel them apart and press them to your leg (or wherever else) and you pull the hair right off.
No muss, no fuss. How hard can it be? I mean, I'm not a genius, but I am mechanically inclined enough to figure this out. (YA THINK!?!)
So I pull one of the thin strips out. Its two strips facing each other stuck together. Instead of rubbing them together, my genius kicks in so I get out the hair dryer and heat it to 1000 degrees. ('Cold wax,' yeah...right!) I lay the strip across my thigh. Hold the skin around it tight and pull. It works!
OK, so it wasn't the best feeling, but it wasn't too bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me!
I am She-rah, fighter of all wayward body hair and maker of smooth skin extraordinaire.
With my next wax strip I move north. After checking on the kids, I sneak back into the bathroom, for the ultimate hair fighting championship. I drop my panties and place one foot on the toilet.
Using the same procedure, I apply the wax strip across the right side of my bikini line, covering the right half of my hoo-ha and stretching down to the inside of my butt cheek (it was a long strip) I inhale deeply and brace myself....RRRRIIIPPP!!!!
I'm blind!!! Blinded from pain!!!!....OH MY GAWD!!!!!!!!!
Vision returning, I notice that I've only managed to pull off half the strip. CRAP! Another deep breath and RIPP! Everything is spinning and spotted.
I think I may pass out...must stay conscious...must stay conscious. Do I hear crashing drums??? Breathe, breathe...OK, back to normal.
I want to see my trophy - a wax covered strip, the one that has caused me so much pain, with my hairy pelt sticking to it. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold up the strip!
There's no hair on it. Where is the hair??? WHERE IS THE WAX???
Slowly I ease my head down, foot still perched on the toilet. I see the hair. The hair that should be on the strip...it's not! I touch. I am touching wax.
I run my fingers over the most sensitive part of my body, which is now covered in cold wax and matted hair. Then I make the next BIG mistake...remember my foot is still propped upon the toilet? I know I need to do something. So I put my foot down.
Sealed shut! My butt is sealed shut. Sealed shut! I penguin walk around the bathroom trying to figure out what to do and think to myself 'Please don't let me get the urge to poop.
My head may pop off!' What can I do to melt the wax? Hot water!! Hot water melts wax!! I'll run the hottest water I can stand, into the bathtub, get in, immerse the wax-covered bits and the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it off, right???
*WRONG!!!!!!!*
I get in the tub - the water is slightly hotter than that used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment - I sit. Now, the only thing worse than having your nether regions glued together, is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of the tub....in scalding hot water. Which, by the way, doesn't melt cold wax.
So, now I'm stuck to the bottom of the tub as though I had cemented myself to the porcelain!! God bless the man who had convinced me a few months ago to have a phone put in the bathroom!!!!!
I call my friend, thinking surely she has waxed before and has some secret of how to get me undone. It's a very good conversation starter. 'So, my butt and hoo-ha are glued together to the bottom of the tub!'
There is a slight pause. She doesn't know any secret tricks for removal but she does try to hide her laughter from me. She wants to know exactly where the wax is located,'Are we talking cheeks or hole or hoo-ha?'
She's laughing out loud by now...I can hear her. I give her the rundown and she suggests I call the number on the side of the box.
YEAH!!!!! Right!! I should be the joke of someone else's night.
While we go through various solutions. I resort to trying to scrape the wax off with a razor ... Nothing feels better than to have your girlie goodies covered in hot wax, glued shut, stuck to the tub in super hot water and then dry-shaving the sticky wax off!! By now the brain is not working, dignity has taken a major hike and I'm pretty sure I'm going to need post-Traumatic Stress counseling for this event.
My friend is still talking with me when I finally see my saving grace....the lotion they give you to remove the excess wax.
What do I really have to lose at this point? I rub some on and OH MY GOD!!!!!!! The scream probably woke the kids and scared the dickens out of my friend. Its sooo painful, but I really don't care. 'IT WORKS!!
It works!!' I get a hearty congratulation from my friend and she hangs up. I successfully remove the remainder of the wax and then notice to my grief and despair....THE HAIR IS STILL THERE.......ALL OF IT! So I recklessly shave it off. Heck, I'm numb by now. Nothing hurts. I could have amputated my own leg at this point.
Next week I'm going to try hair color......
-0-
I think every woman has tried to do her own waxing job at home. When Bern first moved in with me, she brought her bag of tricks with her and in this bag of trick was the hot wax kit. Now I was very brave in those days and used to wax my legs and bikini area. Yes, I was brain dead after years of emotional pain, so try to be understanding ok? We decided to have a beauty evening and this included the waxing ceremony. My then friend Penny decided she wanted to join in on the beauty regime. Penny is a hairdresser, she started working on my hair for me, and we went blond. One of our work colleagues joined us and asked for the bikini wax and she wanted it to be an up close and personal one – not a Brazilian but the legs had to be hairless right to the pantie line.
While Penny was busy with my hair, Bern prepared the hot wax, applied it to Janet’s legs, and worked her way up to the top of the thigh where the bottom starts. She stopped and told Janet she was not going any further but Janet insisted. I think Bern closed her eyes and applied the wax in the inner thigh as Janet lay on her stomach legs open like a dead spider. Not a pretty sight I have to add. Well Bern had managed to drop some hot wax on a tender exposed area and now this wax had to be removed. Bern looked at the sight in horror, backed off, and refused to “touch it”- poor Janet lay there and if she had tried to sit up or roll on to her back she would have glued herself shut.
I sat there in a kitchen chair while Penny was doing my hair and could not help but laugh at the sight before me. There was Janet lying on the floor, wearing her skimpy knickers and t-shirt, legs splayed open so the wax could be applied on the inner thigh and Bern was standing as far away as possible from her with a look of terror on her face. Bern turned to Penny and said, “Hair is your specialty – you cut the wax out!” By now, we were all paralyzed with total exhaustion from the laughter that had wracked our bodies; and poor Janet was too scared to move. Penny objected and reminded us that she works with the hair on a person’s head not on their privates. This glob of wax sat there like an offending intruder on the exposed private hair and we did nothing.
Bern was determined she was not going to work in that area and eventually Penny decided to tackle the sticky problem. She retrieved her hair scissors and made Janet crouch on her knees to make it easier to cut the offending glob of wax and in a flash she cut off the wax, so quick I was worried that there may be a piece of something else attached. When there was no shriek of pain from Janet or blood spurting out of the sensitive private area, I knew the operation had been a success. Now Penny had a natural shake in her hand so this was quite a dangerous operation. Janet tried not to move but giggled in fear and anticipation. Penny tried not to look at the butt-raised sight. I sat in my chair with hair colour in and giggled like a hyena and Bern walked out of the room while this was going on.
Janet then insisted that the job had to be finished and Bern was not ready to carry on, eventually after a glass of wine was used to calm Bern’s nerves and whoops of encouragement from us we gave Janet two more Breezers to drink to prepare her and sedate her - the waxing expedition continued. Finally Janet was finished in more ways than one and she gingerly sat up and exclaimed that she had never laughed so much during a wax before and when was the next beauty evening. Bern turned to her and said, “No ways, I am not going near that thing again, you can pay someone to do it and they can have the pleasure of having to remove the offending bits!” We never had a waxing day again. Bern was traumatized by this and even refused to do my lower leg for me a few weeks later and that was the last time I waxed.
Because of this delay in the waxing process and Penny’s intervention, my hair was a disaster. Somehow, the chemical makeup changed and during the night, it turned Khaki Green. I am not joking, Khaki Green. Now I have no idea if it had anything to do with the red wine consumed, or that I was recovering from my hysterectomy and my natural body chemicals had changed the chemicals of the hair colouring, but when someone says “I was so ill I looked like I was green!”, trust me they have no idea what it is like to look green. I was very pale after a prolonged illness and now sported Khaki Green Hair.
The next morning Penny received a frantic phone call from me and she rushed over to the my house before she left for work and ran a neutralizer through it and a tone definer and then the colour was pulled through again and two hours later, I was a lighter shade of Khaki. It took a further two treatments during the next two days to get the Khaki out and in desperation I told Penny to colour it Auburn as I was not going out in public looking like a camouflaged soldier.
Ten years later and many a change of hair colour and style, I have to say the biggest change has been to my body. I was not advised that after a hysterectomy, the body would increase in size and that I would land up looking like my mum. Now do not get me wrong, my mum was a good-looking woman, and she carried herself with dignity, but she was also horrified that her size 8 body increased to a size 12 body after her hysterectomy. She walked every evening for exercise and wore the ‘hold them in and tucked them away armour panties’, but she was not able to lose the tyre around her stomach. I have to say at 60 she still had shapely legs that many a younger woman was envious of.
”
So lastly, I am adding the mail I received about Mid Life and the changes we go through. I did not write this but I can relate to nearly all of them. Not the one where my children have daughters of their own yet- steady on I am not old enough to have teenage grandchildren YET!
Whether you are pushing 40, 50, 60 (or maybe even just pushing your luck), you will probably relate.
• Mid-life is when the growth of hair on our legs slows down. This gives us plenty of time to care for our newly acquired mustache.
• In mid-life women no longer have upper arms, we have wingspans. We are no longer women in sleeveless shirts; we are flying squirrels in drag.
• Mid-life is when you can stand naked in front of a mirror and you can see your rear without turning around.
• Mid-life is when you go for a mammogram and you realize that this is the only time someone will ask you to appear topless.
• Mid-life brings wisdom to know that life throws us curves and we're sitting on our biggest ones.
• Mid-life is when you look at your know-it-all, beeper-wearing teenager and think, 'For this I have stretch marks?'
• In mid-life, your memory starts to go. In fact the only thing we can retain is water.
• Mid-life means that you become more reflective. You start pondering the 'big' questions. What is life? Why am I here? How much Healthy Choice ice cream can I eat before it's no longer a healthy choice?
But mid-life also brings with it an appreciation for what is important. We realize that breasts sag, hips expand, and chins double, but our loved ones make the journey worthwhile. Would any of you trade the knowledge that you have now, for the body you had way back when? Maybe our bodies simply have to expand to hold all the wisdom and love we've acquired. That's my philosophy and I'm sticking to it!
I think that pretty much sums up where I find myself and I will ignore the changes and be grateful that I have been allowed to experience the changes and have lived to tell the tale.
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