What I couldn’t get over was Elijah getting up and leaving the way he had. Then coming home and finding his phone—which was now in a drawer—and hearing from Tate that even his brothers and parents didn’t know where he’d gone…
Well fuck you, you festering vagina abscess.
Speaking of vaginas, at this exact moment, I was standing in front of my microwave, watching the pot of wax I’d ordered online go round in circles as it melted.
I was a groomer—a little snip here, a snip there, and then some shavy-shavy around the old cooter—but for some reason, I wanted to try waxing after seeing the results of this one online. There were no strips involved, no craziness, just apply, wait, and rip. Seeing as how I got my eyebrows done before they were dyed so people who weren’t dead could see them, I figured I could get through this with no problems.
As soon as it beeped, I pulled the door open and inspected the inside. There was still some ‘solid’ stuff at the top, though, so I put it in for another thirty seconds and went through my plan in my head.
Mirror on the floor
Towel on the floor
Second towel to bite on just in case
Glass with ice water in it just in case
Bag to put used wax inI had it all figured out, so when the microwave beeped this time, and the remaining solid pieces had melted, I wandered through to my room, making sure to close the door behind me. I didn’t want my pussy waxed to my pussy.
Sitting on the towel I’d laid out on the floor, I lifted my t-shirt and tried to angle myself so that I had a good view of my vagina. It was going to be awkward, but eh, I lived for awkward.
The problem was, to get a proper look, I’d have to brace both feet on the wall on either side of the mirror, which meant I needed to scoot forward. I underestimated the power of a varnished floor with a towel on it, though, because the shimmy down ended up with my nunney kissing my mirror.
“Oh, shitting hell, Sadie. Why do you have to be such a stupid twat?”
The answer to this question was—because I didn’t have the guts to bear my cooch to a strange woman armed with wax.
Shuffling my arse around, I finally got the position I needed. Using the pitiful muscles in my stomach, I lifted the jar of wax and decided that a spatula would take too long, and I’d have to go and microwave it again with half my lady garden done, so pouring it would make the job faster. I wanted the whole thing to be bald just to experience it, and if I liked it, I’d keep doing it, so I drizzled a little from the top and braced myself for the pain.
The ads had been true, it really didn’t hurt.
So, with nary a worry in the world, I upended the pot, widening my legs even more to make sure I didn’t miss any. Not that it would matter, I’d ordered two of them just in case, but it would mean going through the whole thing again, and I didn’t have the patience for it.
Unfortunately, during the time between the first pour and the next, something had happened to the wax to make it go from a pleasant temperature to the fiery depths of hell.
And all of it was now on my poor lady garden.
The scream that came out of me would’ve deafened anyone who was doing this for me, so it was probably just as well that I’d decided to do it myself. Then again, maybe not because the wax was on me now.
Through tears, snot, whimpers, and the odd wailing scream, I managed to find my phone, lying just out of reach beside me. When the wax had hit, I’d curled into a ball and must’ve knocked it, which meant I was going to have to move my body to get it.
“Fuck me, I don’t think I’m going to survive this.”
Rolling fully onto my side, I tried to separate my legs, only to scream the second I gained any ground with my left one.
“Oh, chuffing shit, I’ve melted the muscles in my bloody thigh,” I screamed, picking up the spare towel and biting down hard as I cried into it.
No, it wasn’t pissing overreacting, this shit was the most painful thing I’d ever experienced in my life, and I’d been shot in the leg. I was never going to be able to skip or jump again. How would I go up flights of stairs? I’d have to live on the ground floor for life, which meant my dream house with stairs I could decorate at Christmas had completely gone to cock.
All because of a hairy muff.