Buff It, Wax It, Buff It, Tan It, Burn It, Buff It

I went to get my obligatory first wax of the summer today. If anyone reading this would like to know what waxing feels like, perhaps this will shed some light:
Imagine getting gang banged by a horde of melted crayons. Put a 2' strip of electrical tape on your shin and just yank it off as quickly as you can. You've seen a kid open a present. Do it like that. IT FEELS AWESOME! So does a colonoscopy, or so I'm told.

But God bless those Russian aestheticians. Those women are efficient and professional. Don't go Korean. It's just not as cool. I once had a Korean waxer lady joke around, and threaten to turn my forest into a heart-shaped paradise. When I jerked away and pleaded with her, she was all "Hehehehehehe. I'm yust kidding. You looka twerve." What 12 year-old is sporting that kind of growth, lady? Anyway, as I was saying, the Russians aren't messing around, and they care about your body shyness less than they care about the lasting legacy of Warren G. Harding. So, hop up on that table and spread 'em like a pro. Lay down. Get ready, and before the main event begins, you'll be told "This will hurt a little." That's service industry speak for, "You will cry like baby." When they ask you how you're doing, you'd better say fine because they're Reds. I'm talking Kremlin, line for McDonalds, 48 lb. gynasts, Soviet stoicism. Yelping "ouch" is an insult. It also makes you American wussy, yes? Yes. I always say fine, with my teeth clenched, crying like baby. It's shameful really. I'm a tough American lesbian. Waxing isn't supposed to hurt me. Hell, I shouldn't even be there, conforming to the culture-based obsession with perfecting a woman's private Netherlands. I'm a victim of the phallacracy and I should have more of a backbone. But I am surprisingly hairy for a blond and considerably girly for a dyke. Vanity is NOT a sin, it's a virtuous trait.

The Shan will be spending Memorial Day weekend on a beach at the Ritz Carleton in Key Biscayne. I am not kidding. Not even a little. I owe my good fortune to having great taste in generous friends. It's the perfect getaway for the beginning of summer, my favorite season. Je t'aime le chaleur. I am a sun-kissed beach bunny, an outdoors-y type who just soaks up the rays of glorious mother sun. I am Baywatch. Baywatch is me. SPF who cares?
BULL.
I get a sunburn just thinking about sand. Skin cancer on legs, c'est moi. The least I could do to fit in is manage the jungle. For anyone in the Miami area this holiday weekend, the blinding light is my exposed flesh. Be sure to wear polarized lenses.

For the record: I can swim like a fish. That's the truth.