Becoming an Indian beauty: waxing

Tying a saree, putting on mehindi, taking your measure and stitching a salwar suit at a tailor are a few of those sacraments one has to indulge in order to understand what it feels like to be a women in India. For the similar considerations, waxing at a beauty parlour added on the agenda. My enthusiasm got fuelled by the observations and talks with Indian girls with a comprehensive lecture by Puiyali having the major impact. Another triggering factor was the end of my epilator and growing annoyance with the everyday shaving. Yet the determination reached its summit after Stephanie told me about her recent visit to a parlour and astonishingly cheap, yet good services she got there.

However even with saturated determination it took two weeks before I made it to the parlour. I had to grow some hair before, obviously. Two weeks of long sleeves and pants seemed like ages. I truly appreciated my single status thanks to which I could really afford the luxury of letting my hair grow. One fine day, I realized the time has come. Briefed by Piyali about the location of the place, I was making it through the slush of rainy Munirka. Just as I thought, the major landmark – Central Bank, according to Piyali – did not exist, but I had learnt not to take world literally, have not I? So, at some point I found a building that could go for a Central bank and right then I saw the sign of the parlour. Well done!

A North-eastern girl was looking at me with interest.

You do waxing?
She nodded
I want to do legs, half arms and underarms.
“Chpok”, the sound of the waxed heater marked the beginning of the ceremony.

She gave me a skirt-like gown to change in and showed me into a tiny paled room with a high ottoman taking all the space there. In a moment I was sitting in a soft chair in front of a huge mirror at the main room with my arms spread. The two ladies started practicing their witchcraft on me. Powder puffs were generously covering my arms with talc and small clouds of the powder tickled my nose. The girls were proceeding very swiftly. They both scooped warmed-up wax with none-sharp metal sort-of-knifes and started spreading it on my arms as honey on a pancake. The next thing I knew they put stripes of rough cotton on my skin, smoothened them and then sharply tore them off removing both the wax and my hair. I did not even have time to feel shock as they were doing both hands simultaneously and right after one stripe would be torn off from one hand and I would try to take my time for relief, I’d realize the stripe from the other hand got torn off. My problem was not about the pain as such, as it did not really hurt. Yet, I felt like I am getting one tiny electro-shock after another with the intervals so small that not sufficient for recovery. The tension in my whole body was growing without any chance for relief.

The real pain started when we proceeded to the underarms. Another visitor came, so one girl luckily engaged with that one – otherwise I would die with them doing my both underarms at the same time. More than 10 years of everyday shaving played the role – now the hair grows think and rough. The girl did a few stripes, but hair defied her efforts. This time I could really feel the pain. I did not know any more what it was - wax getting hotter and hotter or my irritated skin that was clearly indicating that even touching is better avoided– both feelings merged into one and made me terminate the process.

Let’s do the legs, I said.
The girl raised her eyebrows.
You don’t want the underarms?
No, not now, probably I’d better shave them, I murmured.
She smiled a bit indulgently and invited me into the paled room.

I lay down on the ottoman and tried to relax. One girl was spearing the wax, the other one was doing the stripes. After underarms nothing could really hurt, but the situation with arms repeated – the girls were working really swiftly, so I strained all my muscles to handle the little shocks coming with every torn off stripe. The girls were severely fighting my hair without leaving them a second chance – they were really determined to spare me everyday shaving challenges. Yet, their stripes touched the places which are now doomed to waxing forever – I did not really think of bum as a core area to apply hair-removing techniques, yet the girls hold a somewhat different opinion.

Quite empowered by the notion of the smooth legs for at least a week ahead, I thought – what the hell!

Let’s finish the underarms!

With the end in mind it was easier to handle the pain. So, despite it still took some extra efforts of the girl, the underarms were done in some time.

I put on clothes, paid and left – still in a shock. My whole body still was so strained that even after a few hours I could not get relieved. Yet, the pleasure of watching your hair-free skin still after 4 days is indescribable.

Come again, the girl said.
I do not think anyone who tried waxing once would not.