Call me a woos, call me lazy, I will fess up to both. I am a wax virgin. While I have never been completely satisfied with results achieved by shaving the thought of someone tending to my excess hair has never really appealed and having another thing to fit onto the schedule too…well it just seemed to be something I could do without. But sadly I knew I couldn’t escape some sort of waxing treatment in a feature about prepping for holiday as hair management is a major issue when confronted with the prospect of showing more flesh. I thought I would enter the waxing game tentatively with two half legs, rather than going gung- ho with the brazilian. Knowing how my irrational body reacts to new things it could be naive and dangerous to do attack my sensitive areas first.
I visited the Ministry of Wax website prior my visit to their Covent Garden concept store. Set up like a fun eatery/juice bar they give off an impression that this is a fun and pleasurable jaunt and the thoughts and fears of self inflicted pain temporarily disappear. The store itself also has the same relaxing affect and as I sat waiting for my appointment flicking through their array of fashion magazines I found myself looking up at the ‘menu’ and considering more treatments. After a short wait it was time to go underground to the cavern of treatment rooms. Thinking I had done the right and helpful thing growing my leg hair so it was at the fluffy almost comb-able stage the wax technician gently told me that it didn’t need to be quite that long to be optimum for removal. In response I quipped that I had been going solo for a couple years and currently found myself in an extremely dry patch in the romantic department… as if this confession made my gorilla leg situation less cringey, I was now also a desperate singleton. Well Done! Thankfully she seemed completely unfazed by my thick layer of fuzz and promptly got to work. Laying on my back she started to roll on the wax after checking it was okay temperature. It was right on the cusp of being too hot but I could handle it and predicted it might make the ripping of the strips less painful. She gave me a quick warning she was about to begin but there was no hesitation on her part, I was thoroughly impressed with how quick she got through the roughage of my first frontside. I’m not going to lie, It blooming hurt, my face had a work out as did my fists which clenched and retorted with every pull of a strip. The back of my legs was worse on the pain front but at least I could hide my telling facial expressions. I had always thought my pain threshold of the high variety but she warned me that, like many things, the first time is always the worst/most painful. The more regularly you wax the better the result and the less anguish caused. So once it was all over she soothed by legs with a silky aftercare lotion and I left the funkiest waxers around a few pounds lighter albeit with a slightly red post treatment rash. The skin anger subsided after a day or two to reveal legs which had a natural sheen for the first time ever. They were not as smooth as I thought they would be, it would appear some cunning hairs had escaped the wrath of the wax, so I improved some areas with some minor shaving. All in all it made my short, skirt and bikini wearing much less hassle and I can understand why people try and manage their schedule to fit in a regular sessions.

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