This blog posted by Michelle is a light hearted look inside the world of waxing at home.   The benefits of waxing out weight the cons by far when you leave the tricky part up to the professionals…Happy Waxing!

If you’ve ever attempted waxing anything, you’ll understand this one! (swiped off menopausal bi-polar witch babbling – who swiped it from someone else – in its entirety, as her posts don’t have permalinks)

HAIR REMOVAL MADE EASY

All methods have tricked me with their promises of easy, painless removal – the Epilady, the standard razor, the scissors, the Nair, the EpilStop, and now… The Wax.

My night began as any other normal weekday night. I came home from work, fixed dinner for my son and we played for a while. I then had the thought that would ring painfully in my mind for the next couple hours: maybe I should use that wax in my medicine cabinet. I set up my boy with a video and headed to the site of my demise, um, I mean bathroom.

It was one of those cold wax kits. No melting a clump of hot wax, you just rub the clear strips in your hand, peel them apart, press it on your leg (or wherever) and ignore the frantically rising crescendo of string instruments in the background. No muss, no fuss. How hard can this be? I mean, I’m not the girly-est of girls but I’m mechanically inclined so maybe I can figure out how this works. You’d think.

So I pull one of the thin strips out. It’s two strips facing each other, stuck together. I’m supposed to rub it in my hand to warm and soften the wax (I’m guessing). I go one better: I pull out the hair dryer! And heat the SOB to ten thousand degrees. Cold wax, my ass. (Oh, how that phrase will come back to haunt me.)

I lay the strip across my thigh. I hold the skin around it and pull. OK, so it wasn’t the best feeling in the world, but it wasn’t bad. I can do this! Hair removal no longer eludes me! I am Sheera, fighter of all wayward body hair and smooth skin extraordinaire!

With my next wax strip, I move north. After checking on the boy and verifying that he was, in fact, becoming one with Bear and learning all about smells, I sneak 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 then apply the wax strip across the right side on my bikini line, covering the right half of my vagina and stretching up into the inside of the right ass cheek. (Yeah, it was a long strip.)

I inhale deeply. I brace myself.

RRRIIIIPPP!!!!

I’m blind! Blind from the pain!… Vision returning. Oh crap. I’ve managed to pull off half an inch of the strip. Another deep breath. And… RRRIIIPP! Everything is swirly and tie-dyed? Do I hear crashing drums? OK, coming back to normal again. I want to see my trophy – my wax covered pelt that caused me so much agony. I want to revel in the glory that is my triumph over body hair. I hold the wax strip like an Olympic gold medallist. But why is there no hair on it? Why is the wax mostly gone? Where could the wax go, if not on the strip?

Slowly, I eased my head down, my foot still perched on the toilet. I see hair – the hair that should be on the strip. I touch. I feel. I am touching wax. I look to the ceiling and silently shout “nooooooo!!” And realize I have just begun living my own personal version of “The Tar Baby.”

I peel my fingers off the softest, most sensitive part of my body that is now covered in cold wax and matted hair, and make the next big mistake – up until this point, you’ll remember, I’ve had my foot on the toilet. I know I need to move, to do something. So I put my foot down on the floor. And then I hear the slamming of the cell door. Vagina? Sealed shut. Ass? Sealed shut.

A little voice in my head says, “I hope you don’t have to shit anytime soon. Your head just might pop off.” I penguin walk around the bathroom trying desperately to figure out what I should do next. Hot water! Hot water melts wax! I’ll run the hottest water I can stand and get in – the wax should melt and I can gently wipe it a way, right? Wrong!

I get in the tub – the water is slightly hotter than is used to torture prisoners of war or sterilize surgical equipment. And I sit. Now the only thing worse than having your goodies glued together is having them glued together and then glued to the bottom of a tub. In scalding hot water. Which, by the way, does not melt the cold wax. So now I’m stuck to the tub.

I call my friend, C, because she once dropped out of beauty school so surely she has some secret knowledge or trick to get wax off skin. It’s never good to start a conversation with “So my ass and vagina are stuck to the tub.”

She doesn’t have a trick. She does her best to suppress laughter. She wants to know exactly where the wax is on the ass. “Are we talking cheek or hole, here?” she asks. She isn’t even trying to hide the giggles now. I give her the run-down of the entire night. She tells me to call the number on the side of the box, but to have a good cover story for where the wax actually is. “You know that if we were working the help line at XX Wax Co. and somebody called with their entire crack sealed shut, we’d just put them on hold then record the conversation for everyone we know. You’re going to end up on a radio show or the internet if you tell them the truth.

While we go through various solutions, I have resorted to scraping the wax off with a razor. Boy, nothing feels better to the girly goodies than covering them in wax, sticking them to a tub in super hot water and THEN dry shaving the sticky wax off!

In the middle of the conversation (which has inexplicably turned to other subjects!) I find the little, beautiful saving grace that is the lotion provided with wax to remove the excess. I rub some in and start screaming, “It’s working! It’s working!” I get hearty congratulations from C and we hang up.

I successfully remove all the wax and notice, to my dismay, that the hair is still there. So I shaved the damned stuff off. Hell, I was numb by that point anyway. And then I put the box of wax back in my medicine cabinet. Never know when a moustache might start to come in.

Austrian performer’s from Thunder Down Under lost their hearts and the Hard Rock Hotel’s Rehab Pool Party will never be the same again!

The Beehive Girls adventure began Saturday, June 13, 2009  when we gathered at the airport for our flight to Las Vegas.

We had quite a few reasons to celebrate: Tammy our Bride To Bee, this was going to be here last trip as a single female, Catherine our Birthday Bee, was celebrating a special birthday, Cara our Legal Bee, turned 21, Cortney our Grounded Wings Bee, had never been on an airplane before, and Laura our Good Girl Bee,  this was her first voyage to Vegas. Oh yeah.. the Beauty Convention (Yes we did go, here is a photo to prove it).

After some flight delays, we were in the air and landed in Sin City where a limo was waiting sent by the Hard Rock …There was a small PROBLEM the luggage doesn’t fit …Hmmm. Well  they only asked how many people and I told them 9 girls!They never asked about how much luggage!

We checked into the Hard Rock Hotel and had to hurry and get ready since we had tickets to the 9pm Thunder Down Under Show. With a special front row seat just for Tammy.

Albert, our awesome, Hummer limo driver had Champagne waiting to toast Tammy. Catherine made sure Tammy would be the center of attention amongst all the other brides-to- be at the show with her hot pink tiara (with hot pink flashing lights) and a hot pink sash.

Did it work? Well if cameras were allowed in the show, we could of shown you… but lets just say she was up on stage in a matter of 4 songs! But that’s not all, leave it up to Birthday Bee, Catherine to have one of the guys trying to give out his number via hand signals during the performance. Take a look at the photo and try and guess which one it was.

After the show, we were escorted by a “Chick Wrangler” from the Hard Rock (that was the title on his business card), employed by Body English to the front of the line and into to the club.

The next day was Sunday and that meant Cabana time at the Rehab Pool Party at the Hard Rock Pool. We all thought we knew what we were getting into, since we have seen an episode or two of the reality show based on Rehab on TruTV – Wrong!

Thousands of people, long lines, can you believe, there is even a line for those with Cabana reservations? so we called and texted our host, “where are you?”, hurry get your wrist bands and Welcome to Spring Break, The River and a out of control Vegas Pool Party all in one. The Beehive Girls caused quite a stir, made some new friends, were followed by cameras from clubzone.com, Rehab TV and most guests of the male persuasion.

At one point, the Beehive Beach Balls (that are friends one cabana over blew up for us) were all over the pool. Oh and one more small note, look for the Beehive Girls on the Rehab reality show, hint the scene includes a guy from the east coast wearing one of our hot pink feather boas! For those of you that were there, who asked when our own reality show will air and we all just laughed and said oh we wish! Well you know how the saying goes, becareful what you wish for cause you just  might get it!

Watch our video  – Beehive Girls Do Rehab

How was it traveling, sharing rooms and hanging for 48 hours straight with people you work full time with? Honestly, one common element of the Beehive many clients comment on is how all the girls are so friendly and genuinely seem to really like each other. The rumor is true (thank goodness), we don’t have heated battles or drama at the Beehive to dish about… There goes the reality show darn!

To all our new friends, don’t be strangers, join us on our social media sites so we can keep in touch and we would love to see you, your friends and family in one of the Beehive Salons in Southern California sometime soon!

There is so much we want to share with you about upcoming events, beauty tips and more from the Beehive Girls – look for www.BeehiveGirlz.com coming soon!

Share our video with friends… Beehive Girls Do Rehab