The business across the hallway from my office is a waxing and skin care salon. In previous office spaces, I’ve been located next to accounting firms, software developers, architects and a bicycle shop. Although the guys in the bike shop were a kick, the waxing salon is hands down the best neighbor we’ve ever had, and for two main reasons. First, the owners are a husband/wife team who are two of the most genuine people on the planet, and we’ve had great conversations with them. Second, their clientele is primarily college students and young female professionals, and I’ve joked with Groomasaurus Gal that the reason my business partner and I have a hard time finishing projects is because of all the very attractive distractions walking through the door across the hallway. I know this makes me sound like a complete letch, and it’s not like I have a periscope poking above my cube to get a better view (although now that I think about it, this isn’t such a bad idea), but put any warm-blooded straight guy in my office and see if they can keep from looking up from their spreadsheet every once in a while. I may be engaged, but I’m not dead.
So I was talking with the husband co-owner a few weeks ago and he was telling me that they’re working 7 days a week right now to keep up with wedding season. I guess I never realized that this is something that brides and their bridesmaids do before the big day – stop by for a casual wax – and often en masse, although I can see the logic behind it. Sort of like a day at the spa but with more tears and shrieks (although I have yet to hear any yelling coming from their office).
Then I thought about if guys would ever do such a thing, and the picture in my head made me laugh out loud. Not in a million years, never, nihil, nada, no way jose. First of all, guys couldn’t handle the pain. Women are naturally programmed to withstand dramatically more pain than we are (Exhibit A: Childbirth). I remember Bill Cosby once saying that if you’re a guy and you want to feel the pain of childbirth, just take your lower lip and wrap it around your head. The planet would be empty if it we were the ones carrying babies, because none of us could handle the pain. Same situation for waxing. I’d rather look like Cornelius from Planet of the Apes and endure uncomfortable stares at the pool than have to endure a waxing session. Heck, I tear up when I pluck a stray whisker from my face; I’d probably pass out if someone ripped a whole strip of them off.
And this brings me to the second reason a group of groomsmen wouldn’t be caught dead in a waxing salon. It’s because, well, we really don’t want anyone removing things from our guy parts. When I do see the occasional guy across the hallway, sitting there calmly waiting for his appointment, I wince just at the thought that he might be getting his business waxed. And I don’t care how cute the waxing technician is, because once I feel that searing pain of the first rip, I’ll be squealing in the same octave that a choirboy sings. I saw The 40 Year Old Virgin, and although it’s certainly not billed as an educational movie, I learned volumes from that waxing scene.
Thankfully I’m not that hirsute, so I’ll never have to face a waxing strip voluntarily. But after thinking about the discomfort of waxing, I am humbled and a bit in awe at the lengths you women go to make yourselves look fantastic. Thank god you are okay with us guys being hairy beasts, cause for most of us you couldn’t tempt us into a waxing salon with a case of beer, tickets to the Super Bowl and the promise of nookie for a month (well, okay, that might work).
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