I Got My Torso/Back Waxed, and It Was Awful

This is going to be one of stranger posts I've published during this trip. This won't be edited much because I don't want to spend too much time reliving the experience.

There will also not be photos or videos. At least not yet. We have them. Andrew documented the entire experience on his phone. I'm just not sure how comfortable I am with the rest of the internet world actually seeing me this way. I have an image to uphold, you know!

Why Did You Get a Wax Job?

There are a few reasons:

1. It's hot, and I thought my body would feel more comfortable if it were sans hair for a bit.
2. Sheer and simple morbid curiosity.
3. I thought it'd be a funny experience to share with a friend.

Much to the surprise of the lady who undertook this mission of waxing my upper body, Thuy did NOT talk me into this. Thuy was surprised that I'd even consider it. Her surprise quickly turned to curiosity, as she, too, wondered what I would look like after the wax job.

How Did You Find a Place?

Thuy, Andrew, and I did a quick search and found two possible locations in the immediate vicinity. We called one, and they didn't answer. We called the next one, and they confirmed that they do do waxes for men. We made an appointment to arrive in 30-minutes.

Before leaving, we cracked open the rice wine I bought in Da Lat, and we each took shots. I took a couple extra to calm my nerves.

We got into a taxi at the base of our apartment, and we took off for the spa salon. It was about a 5-minute drive away.

How Much Did It Cost?

700,000 VND ($35 USD) total. 350,000 ($17.50 USD) per side. I tipped the waxing lady an extra 100,000 ($5 USD) for her efforts.

So...How Did It Go?

Andrew and Thuy followed me upstairs to the private waxing room. I took off my shirt and did before/after photos. Andrew then recorded me giving a final statement before laying down. I took one more swig of the rice wine (we brought it along for good measure), laid down on my belly, and just let it happen.

The woman went right to work, which was probably for the better. No sense dragging this all out longer than it needed to be.

She applied the first track of wax, laid a cloth down, and with a quick pull the first of what would be many wax strips was removed. It caught me by surprise, so it didn't feel as bad as the rest would eventually feel. Andrew, Thuy, and I were all laughing at the absurdity of what was transpiring. Each pull of the strip forced a yelp out of me.

She started at a less-than-sensitive area first--bless her heart. She started at my lower back, made her way across to my spine (starting to hurt more), up my back (hurting more), do my shoulder blades (damn it this hurts), and up to my should and neck area (bloody hell this hurts!).

By the time she got to my upper back and shoulders, I wasn't laughing anymore. This was seriously starting to hurt, and I was dreading having to turn over to let her work on the front side.

Andrew and Thuy were still laughing away and trying to talk to me, but I snapped at them to be quiet, as I was seriously trying to focus on not being in the room. I was working hard to get to my happy place, my zen spot, anything that would keep me from remembering that there's a 4'10" Vietnamese woman applying hot wax and then pulling strips of hair from my body by their roots.

She brought in a co-worker and instructed her to fan me with whatever she could get her hands on. The co-worker found a spa brochure laying around, and then she proceeded to wave it at my face to cool me down. I was hot and starting to perspire.

Thuy tried to hold my hand, but I wasn't having it at that time. I was angry, mainly with myself for thinking that this was a good idea. But, I was also committed, for stopping now would be really weird for everyone, including myself, since I would have to look in the mirror and see patches of hair removed. It would be a sign of my silliness. My inability to cope with pain. No, I have to finish. I will finish.

My back is done, and she tells me to turn over. I gingerly lift myself up and force myself onto my back.

I'm freakin' determined now.

Right away, she goes to work on my rib areas. She then makes her way inwards towards my upper body.

Andrew encourages me with a "hang in there buddy." That's when I realized she was at my nipple area. RIP! Holy hell did that hurt. I did not see that one coming. I winced and yelped. The woman waxing me, however, pressed onward. The co-worker continued fanning me down with the brochure in her hand.

She got to my belly. RIP! Yeah, those hurt, as well.

By this time, my eyes are closed. I'm breathing deep, exhaling with each pull. It lessens the pain a little bit when I do that. Thuy and Andrew are mute out of respect for my desire to concentrate on anything else but what is happening on that table. For the remainder of my upper body, I look like I'm in a relaxed state of being.

I tell her to avoid my underarms and my arms altogether. I've already done my torso and back. I don't need to submit my arms to this ridiculousness.

I realized along the way that the alcohol did nothing at all. It didn't numb the pain. It didn't make the pain any less real. All it did was convince me to get on that table and finish this thing to completion.

She's finally done.

Her and her co-worker apply some sort of lotion to my front side, massaging my now red and tortured skin as they work in the lotion. They then gently wipe me down with a cold towel. The cold towel feels great. After a few seconds, they use the towels to wipe off the lotion. The wax woman tells me to turn over onto my front side. They proceed to give my back the same treatment.

In a display of pity and remorse, like a mother to her child she takes my head in her hands and starts to give me a head massage. It was free, probably not apart of the package. But, she saw the anguish in my face, the look of a young man who made a brash, foolish life mistake in front of his wife and close friend.

Throughout the entire ordeal, the wax woman kept asking Thuy "are you sure you didn't make him do this," and muttering under her breath "I feel so bad for you." I praise her for not making this any worse than it was for me.

The entire process is done. I'm free to go.

I put on my Boracay shirt. I had the foresight to bring it with me, it's made out of a light, gentle fabric. It's the only shirt my body could possibly stand right now.

I waddle my way down the stairs; I try to keep my upper body from moving so as not to disturb the skin I so violently betrayed. I pay the bill, give the woman a tip, and, without making any eye contact to anyone else in that spa, I walk out and catch a cab back home with Thuy and Andrew.

We get home, and I proceed to take off my shirt. It really does look and feel like I have a terrible sunburn. I'm instructed to take a cold shower to numb the skin and wash off any remaining wax. I don't scrub as per the woman's suggestion. I simply let the water rain down from the shower head and onto the treated areas.

I come out, and Thuy offers to apply some sort of cream to my body. Large parts of my now hairless upper body look very irritated, as if I have a rash in addition to a sunburn. It doesn't itch, it just stings.

We were supposed to go out to dinner. It's Andrew's last night in Vietnam, so we figured we'd take him to a nice restaurant. I send Thuy out with him, as I was in no condition to go outside. She takes him souvenir and gift shopping, and then they head to the restaurant together. I stay home and eat left overs while I lick my wounds and put myself to bed.

I'm hastily writing this now, the morning after the waxing. I wanted to write it while it was still fresh in my mind, but also because I didn't want to think about the details after a few days. Once the stinging wears down, I'd like to enjoy the fruits of the wax woman's labor. I want to think about the positives, not the negatives.

It feels weird to look down and see a hairless chest for the first time. There are still a few red spots here and there, but by in large most of whatever rash I developed has dissipated.

We'll look back on this and laugh.