There Are RULES to Leg Waxing??!

Leg Waxing

Clearly, she followed the rules.

Did you know that? There are serious and not to be broken rules to leg waxing. I know. I was shocked too.

So, I’ve recently decided to start waxing my legs instead of shaving them. I’m sick of razors and hassle and having to shave every other day. It’s not fun. Leg waxing is the obvious alternative because it last longer and is way cheaper than laser hair removal. But it’s apparently more complicated. You see, I thought you could just go and get your legs waxed. No fuss, just some hot wax tearing all the hairs out of your legs causing you to make faces you would make if being tortured all for the sake of looking “pretty”. Nope. That’s not how it’s done. There are rules. Rules people! Do  you think waxers live in a willy-nilly world of chaos and anarchy? They don’t. They live in a strict world of rigidness.

Rule 1: Hair must be 1/4 of an inch to be waxed. It sounds like a little but that’s actually a fairly long leg hair to someone like me who has been shaving her legs every other day since she was 10. Your supposed to grow out your leg hair for like, 2 weeks, so it can get that long. It just seems like hot wax should be able to pull out shorter hairs than that, but who am I to argue with science?

Rule 2: Never get waxed a week before or a week after your menstrual cycle. Really? My period effects this too!?? Is there nothing I can do without having to wonder about what week it is? Apparently skin is really sensitive during these weeks, but I have to say that’s not something I’ve ever noticed before. This only leaves 2 weeks you can get your legs waxed. There is a lot more planning than expected going into this.

Rule 3: Exfoliate your legs 3 days prior to waxing and then again 3 days after waxing to avoid ingrown hairs. Never exfoliate right after waxing. Again, there is just so much planning that goes into this. But I’m also really afraid of what would happen if I didn’t follow this rule. Like, what if I did exfoliate right after waxing? Would all the skin on my leg peel off? Gross. And scary.

Rule 4: Tip your waxer. Of course. I forgot that as a woman I have to pay dearly to have every part of my body tortured in order to feel like a real woman. Why do I buy into this again? Oh yeah, hairy legs are gross.

Did you know there were that many rules to leg waxing? Why don’t they teach you this in school? My education was severely lacking. And even if they didn’t teach me this in school, why didn’t Jane Austen or Charlotte Bronte prepare me for this? My razor is looking less and less like a hassle right now and more like a good friend who you don’t really like that much but who is always there when you need them no questions asked. My razor would probably bail me out of jail if I needed it. Waxing would just let me rot in a cell until it was the right week of the month.

Will Not Be Tarnished

The Nile in Uganda

Beautiful, Peaceful- This is My Uganda

Yesterday, a place I love was attacked. Yesterday, people of all nationalities were killed while watching the World Cup Finals in Kampala, Uganda. One of the places that was bombed was a place I know well. In 2008, I sat in that very same rugby club and watched the opening ceremonies of the Summer Olympics with people from all over the world. Everyone cheered as their respective nations walked around the stadium and I will always remember how happy I felt at that moment. They served good food, they had comfy couches, everyone who came there had a smile on their face. That night in Kamapala, Uganda at the rubgy club was one of my happiest. And now that place is gone. In the last ten  minutes of a thrilling match the world split apart for those in my favorite rugby club as well as those at a nearby Ethiopian restaurant.

I don’t understand this kind of disrespect for human life. I simply can’t comprehend this type of hate. Honestly, at this point I don’t care who perpetrated this attack and why- it won’t change what has already been done. Later, I will wonder and speculate. Today, however, I just want to remember that place as it was and send all my thoughts and prayers to those who are in hospital recovering and the families of those 74 who will never recover. Today, the attackers will not occupy my mind- they don’t deserve first thoughts- first thoughts are reserved for those whose pleasant and happy night was brought to an abrupt and violent end.

One of my favorite Ugandan hang-outs is gone but I won’t ever forget the way it was. My memories will not be tarnished by hatred. I will not be afraid to travel back to the place I love, the place where I have found some of my most joyful moments and experiences. Despite last nights events, Uganda will remain in my mind as one of the most peaceful places I have ever visited. A place where I not only witnessed peace, but where I found my own.

There Is A Girl This Morning

There is a girl this morning who will wake up before anyone else in her family. She will start the fire and begin to make the matoke and beans that will be their breakfast. She has four brothers and a Mother to cook for, her Father is in the woods making what living he can for them by hunting. She empties the last of the water from her yellow plastic jerry can into the pot on the fire. As the water heats she takes the empty jerry can and begins her walk to the well. The walk to the well is pleasant enough, few people are awake and the day is still and quiet although already quite warm. Mosquitos bite her legs as she walks but she doesn’t notice them. After a short walk down a very steep and muddy hill she reaches the well. This well is nothing more than a pipe protruding out of the earth and pouring water into a little alcove. She knows better than to take water from the little pool the pipe creates. That stagnant water would bring disease and death to her family. She wades up to her knees in the pool and puts her large jerry can directly under the pipe and it begins to fill. The can gets heavier and heavier as it fills with water and her arms ache to keep it in place just a little longer until it’s full. Finally water reaches the top of the jerry can. She lifts it with all of her strength onto her head and begins the treacherous walk back up the slippery steep hill. She knows that if even a little bit of water spills she will have to go back to the well and start again. She walks slowly but confidently up the hill. This isn’t her first trip to the well. Since she learned to walk she has been making this trek with progressively larger and larger jerry cans. The one she carries today is the largest and weighs almost as much as she does. She never reaches a hand up to the can balanced on her head- this comes from years of practice and the jerry can doesn’t so much as move no matter how steep the hill or long the walk. By the time she returns home with the fresh water, breakfast is boiling and she removes it from the fire and divides it into exactly equal portions. How she does this type of division without a measuring cup is almost mystical. Mathematicians couldn’t divide this breakfast more equally. Her brothers and her Mother join her outside for breakfast. They eat quickly and quietly- this might be all they get for the day. After they finish this amazing girl washes the bowls with the least amount of water possible, she doesn’t want to have to walk back to the well until this evening, yet the dishes are somehow spotless. Her brothers pick up the rope they have made out of leaves and begin playing. They are young, they are all young the girl included, but the task of cleaning their home is left to her and her Mother. The boys have the liberty to play. She grabs the broom from outside the curtain door and enters her home. It is dark inside and cooler, she sweeps the dirt and dust into piles on the floor and then carefully, with the utmost caution, sweeps it into a makeshift pan and dumps it outside. Her back aches but she hardly notices it, she just wants to finish her morning chores so  she can join her brothers outside and play for a while before it’s time for her evening chores. Finally she finishes. Outside she and her brothers and a few other children from their road create games to play. Duck duck goosie is her favorite but the boys would rather kick and throw around a worn out almost unrecognizable football they have. She doesn’t protest and just enjoys the freedom of being able to, for just a minute, play. She doesn’t go to school, none of them do, their parents don’t have the money to send them so instead she is learning everything a women needs to keep a house and her brothers will soon go into the woods with her Father to learn how to hunt. Far too soon, it seems, her Mother is calling her and her brothers to come and bathe. This is her signal that her playtime is over and chores begin again. For her brothers this is their signal to throw a tantrum and cry all the way to the bath. They hate the cold water and resent being made to bathe. She doesn’t mind the bathing but she would rather not have to start the fire, cook the dinner, and walk to the well again. The girl is grateful to have a dinner though and she holds onto that as she makes her way back home. Her day ends as it began and tomorrow morning it will begin again.

Posted in Short Stories Tagged , brothers, child, chores, girl, impoverished life, play, poverty, power, , villiage, warmth, water well,