Page 60 of Tarek

4:30pm I’m finally home. I run up the stairs and I noticed two brown boxes sitting in front of my door. Grabbing them I head inside of my home.

At 4:40 pm I realize that Tarek hasn’t call or text as yet. Well at least the sex was good but why didn’t he call though? Grabbing a knife from my kitchen counter I open the box. As expected, the boutique sent me my dress and from the looks of it, this was a good choice. Up next the other box which held my wax kit. My brother’s fund raiser starts at 8. I should take a shower now, and then wax my body.

It doesn’t take me too long to shower. Now comes the real task: waxing my entire body. Arm, legs, top lip, chin and of course my coochie. How hard can it be?

Opening my laptop, I find YouTube and I look at a series of DIY waxing videos. My favorite is Ms. Waxy.

According to Ms. Waxy, waxing is easy as pie. Exfoliate, pre wax spray, powder area to be waxed, apply wax, pull…then bam. Clean clear skin, I have this. Placing my pot on a short table, I lower my boiling wax to 194 F. My wooden sticks are ready. First up my chin, thanks to PCOS, I have a mini five’o clock shadow. With a swift pull, my eyes water, since the hair has been forced out of its follicle. Under my arms, then my legs. For a first time DIY’er, I’m doing amazing.

I press play on my laptop, listening again to Ms. Waxy. Unfortunately, Ms. Waxy is thin as a reed and she has no idea what a fupa is.

My phone vibrates on the table next to me, peeping over it, I answer.

“Mom.”

“Tell me you’re on your way, because it’s already 6:15, and you’re not here.” I can picture her fussing in some alcove area.

“Mom, the event starts at 8 p.m. I have time, the plaza is some minutes away.” I stir the pot of hot wax.

“You have time? Your brother is already here. Why do you enjoy giving me heart attacks?” Of course, she wants to be extra.

“I can always stay home and text Archie that I’m not coming he would understand,” I state. The phone becomes silent.

“I will send you a car, you come when you’re ready. Love you.” She hangs up quickly.

That’s what I thought, because she knows that I will stay home without a question.

The phone buzzes again only to reveal the name that I have been hoping to see. Tarek. I send him to voicemail. He called two more times and each time I send it straight to voicemail.

I should wax my lower half in parts. First up my fupa, one rip and the hair is gone. Now Ms. Waxy says I’m supposed either a) hoover over a mirror, b) sit in front of a mirror or c) Lie down and hold the mirror down to see my lower half.

I lay on my back, butt naked. I must look like a crab as I spread wax on my labia. Then the bright idea strike, I should apply wax to my bikini line, both labia and inside. I can kill three birds with one stone. Then I can do my makeup and dress.

With the powder in my hand, I do my little tap tap on the areas to be wax. The powder particles float, making my nose tickle.

Everything is going according to plan, a swipe of warm wax here, a swipe of warm wax there. A tingle creeps up my nose. With my legs stretch wide, I wait for the wax to cool. Then it happens.

“Achoo!” with an explosive force the sneeze erupts from me. My head snaps back, the rush of air gives me a sense of relief. I take a deep breath and sigh.

However, when I sneezed, I curled my body in a fetal position and my thighs closed, and my labia are now stuck together.

“Oh no!” Sitting up quickly, I try to spread my legs, but the wax has stuck them together.

All I have to do is pull it off. Standing, I place a hand on my tummy and try to remove the wax but it’s too much.

My eyes water as I pull the wax away. “This is not how it supposed to happen,”

I try again and I couldn’t do it. One, there was too much wax and two it was too painful to do on my own.

Reaching for the phone I dial Zeeta. After two rings it goes straight to her voice mail. “Hi this is Zeeta, I can’t come to the phone right now.”

I press my hand into my eyes. How am I going to do this?

Maybe I could try oil, with my fused legs I shuffle to my dresser, pumping body oil in my hand. Nothing. The wax didn’t even crumble. Do I have to go to urgent care to handle this? The embarrassment. I can imagine it now. A nurse asks me, “What brings you here today?”

“I put too much wax on my pussy.” I can feel my cheeks becoming hot with just the thought.

God, please help. Oh, maybe if I use my blow dryer it might melt.

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