hairy arms

I took a glace at the stats for my blog. The meter can show me search words that have led people to my blog. Someone chanced upon the site by searching for "hairy arms", and per my second to last post this site came up as a hit.

In case that reader returns, here's my advice. Wax. No pain, no gain. That's my motto.

Man fifth grade sucked. And if those were my arms, imagine my legs. I was finally allowed to get my legs waxed at age 10. My desi female readers will understand my plight. My mom didn't take me to a salon. She took me to some desi woman's apartment who did ghetto waxing on the side. This woman made wax on the stove with sugar, and um ... sugar? Then she used a butter knife (a METAL butterknife) to put the wax on. And no muslin strips. She used old torn up sheets as the wax strips. We are so cheap. Needless to say, I never went back to her again.

It gets worse. Since I was so young, my mom only let me wax the bottom part of my legs - not even up to my knees. And then she dressed me in shorts for school the next day (it was summer). The shorts covered only half of my thigh! Imagine going to school with hair up to my knees and nothing below that. It was like that scene from "40-Year Old Virgin" when Andy gets his chest waxed. Except sooooo much worse.

By the way, I know I tell these funny and rather cringe-worthy stories of my childhood and paint my mom as some evil perpetrator. But she didn't mean anything by it. My mom is the best woman in the whole wide world. In fact, I think she had the premonition to know that one day people would write journals on something called the "Internet" and that her daughter would be one of these people. She did these things to ensure that I would have material 16 years later. Isn't she amazing?