Wax On, Wax Off

Honestly, I don't get why I think it's okay for a stranger to remove my unwanted body hair. And unfortunate strangers they are! Who knows what hideous things they have to encounter while applying hot wax to someone's neglected "bikini area". Ha! "Bikini Area". We are so embarrassed to say what it is we are actually waxing that we call it an "area". Well, the place I like to be hair free could be called just the "ass crack", but no one wants to say that to the person at the salon desk. Hell, once I made the mistake of saying, "I'd like a full leg and armpit wax" to one of those cheap joints in NYC (masterfully run and by Asians, yes) and I was corrected politely: "You want full leg and underarm?" So it's an UNDERARM not an ARMPIT. Armpit is gross I guess - and I suppose I wouldn't really want to wax a pit - or a crack for that matter. What about a vulva? "Hi, I'm here for a 2:00 full vulva wax." That would be excellent. Fuck, it's better than "Brazilian" - which implies that Brazilians have impeccably hairless crotches and cracks, and that perhaps if you get "brazilian-ed" you too might have beautiful Brazilian butt cheeks.

Whatever, I dig the Brazilian if it's done right (so much so that I don't mind some random person grooming my privates) and it does make me feel slightly more sexy - but how often is the Brazilian really done right? And in Nantucket of all places? Hell no. Did I have yet another horrible wax experience here? Hell yes. Ugh. I walked out of this place with my underwear stuck to my crack for the rest of the afternoon, and my remaining pubes had to be trimmed of the leftover wax. You know what's the most ridiculous? That I paid this woman and I acted like everything was okay because I just wanted the whole experience to be over with. I smiled, gave her a tip and walked out. She didn't speak a word of english, actually. So if I had a complaint it would have been a complete farce.

Enough on my crack though, because really, what I should be writing about is Tari Cash's wedding in Martha's Vineyard this weekend. Mom and I ventured on a super long journey by ferry to MVY with Ru and El, where we found ourselves chasing completely overtired little monsters around a filthy ferry deck. Insanity. I'm proud to say that we survived though and I'm psyched that we were there to see such an amazing event - I swear there had to be at least 350 people invited, and we were the minority! My first African-American wedding and I'm not sure I'll ever get to see anything quite like it again. It was spectacular, Tari was gorgeous, her family and husband were adorable and I had a reunion with several old old friends. Myles actually joined us there on Friday night before the wedding and Ru and El had some hesitation when he scooped them up in his arms at the airport. I think they were so psyched to see him because we had been talking about him for so long, and then the reality of Daddy and who he is seemed a little confusing. I mean, how good is your memory at 15 months of age? 2 weeks of not seeing someone can render them non-existant if you don't keep up the chatter about them. Seriously, they were kind of scared to see him. But after a couple minutes they wanted nothing to do with mom or me... it was all Dad. And he was so great with them at the wedding, running around and watching them while I tried to hang with my friends. Guess what, after a couple of lame pictures at the ceremony, my camera battery died again. I have no visuals from the fucking insanely beautiful reception! Ugh. You should have seen the size of these tents, the landscape, the band, and the way the girls looked in their party dresses, flopping around all giddy on these giant white couches in the cocktail tent - or running around the grassy lawn with sugar cane in their mouths. The perfect photo op all evening, and I was screwed.

So Myles comes back to Nantucket tomorrow and we will celebrate our 2 year anniversary one day late. Do you think we'll get in a fight on our annual dinner date again? That would be grand. Highly likely too, considering that I always get all nostalgic about how we used to be. Perhaps I'll keep my mouth shut this time and see if he might deliver a corny comment or two on his own. YIKES! I can't believe I'm going to have him with us for the entire month - it's going to be a huge treat - one that I probably won't have again until he retires. Weird, eh? I wonder if it will be good for us, or whether it will be a disaster.