Many young woman face a certain phase in their lives. Some do nothing and just let nature take its course, maybe take the easy way, while others will stare at it, head on, with vision, bravery and, yes, a little naivtey. How best to meet this problem? It’s one that always comes back so a good plan is important, and it will, hopefully, be used throughout womanhood. My Daisy* was faced with an unspeakable suffering yesterday. I let it happen. I couldn’t stop it. My poor, brave, agonized Daisy.
No this is not about her period. She would kill me. She will anyway because I said “period”.
This is what I heard almost as soon as I got home from the hospital: “MOM!!!! I’m going to CAMP for a WEEK and how the HECK am I supposed to SHAVE my LEGS? Can we buy the wax strips, please?” This conversation had been going on for a while now with me telling her she had to grow the hair on her legs first and she was horrified she would have to wait a week or two.
I explained to her how painful it would be. I don’t think she believed me. So off we went to the store and bought wax strips that wouldn’t need to be microwaved. Not that it matters. Belatedly, I checked her legs. Two days of stubble. Oh boy. She was sheepish and pointed out the strips were made for short hair. Of course, what did I know; I’ve only waxed, sugared, tweezed, shaved, buffed and epilated for years.
She insisted on no help from me at all. So, armed with her box of strips she locked herself in the bathroom. I waited. I waited some more. I thought maybe she changed her mind.
“Mom?” “Yes, sweetheart?” “So how bad will it hurt? I’m afraid.” I told her she could do it and it would hurt like hell but her leg will be bald. “okay” she said in a teeny tiny voice.
I hear my poor baby gasping for air. I was at the door in an instant but she would not let me in. Seconds later I hear AAAAAAAAIIIIIIII. Wow. She did it again. And then she did it again. I stood outside that door listening to my little girl scream and realized how, more and more, she is becoming a very strong woman. She faced this problem along with its pain and stuck with it to the end. I was so proud of her at that moment. Listening to her cries, I beamed with pride.
“Mom, not all the hair came off! And I still have to do my armpits. What do I do now?” I told her I had an epilator. “What does it do?” I didn’t have the heart to tell her but I did. She actually went white.
“Get it for me please Mom” I did, set it up, gave it to her. This time I stood outside her bedroom door listening to buzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzOWowowowOWOWZZZZZZOWOWowowzzzowOWowowow
*Name changed to protect me from you-know-who.