First confession, when I say every Monday morning, I mean probably that day, maybe that week, but really it could just be someday, one day soon. I do say “Morning!” at all crazy times of day. And sometimes Monday morning will be Wednesday….evening.

I’ve been waxing lady bits for nigh on 15 years. I have now progressed to men’s nether regions. Woah what a career move. Let me try in some way to explain why when asked to work at a men only salon it was no biggie. In other words, to be waxing ball bags, willies, and bum holes. The infamous back, sack and crack. I was not shocked, and in fact up for the challenge. Really no biggie. 

To some waxing is a big no no, be it man or woman. Quite, it hurts too much. For some removing hair from genitalia is just darn wierd. But hey, I’m a modern woman growing up with Carrie from Sex and the City. So I have to say removing hair from the genitalia for me is not weird at all. I’ve been removing the hair from my moo since the late ninties! Though be it with a razor, and suffering immense regrowth itchiness agony. Also, having mainly open experimental sexual relationships, hair removal can be part of one’s sex life. It ‘s actually quite sexy to remove hair prior to getting jiggy with it, as well as being hygienic & smooth. And let’s face it who enjoys getting pubes in one’s teeth? No me, no me. 

It amazes me that a man removing unwanted hair, even in 2014, is still not seen as the norm. So it is walking into slightly unknown territory. Still for most part it is seen as pervy, a tabboo, gross, wierd, gay etc

Really? Taboo? Wierd? Gay? Pervy? Gross?

When telling my collegues and boss I was leaving this bollocks to go wax bollocks. They clearly thought what the hell are you letting yourself in for. “Yuck, oh gross men’s bits, it’s gonna be loads of weirdo’s.” Exclaimed my old boss. Now, having worked in various salons over the years there are plently of gross women, plenty of wierd women, dirty, smelly, miserable women. I am assuming it can’t be much worst than anything I’ve seen or smelt so far.

The reality is far different from the sordid mind of my previous boss who I may add has drawn pictures of pith that she saw during a Hollywood wax. Yes pith, yes drawings, yes stuck in someone’s pubic hair. Lovely!

As I was about to find out for myself, if men are gonna wax their nether regions they’re clean. Alot of women are not. Men are often quite shy in a salon environment, even getting a back wax. They can be body conscious, so they make an extra effort not to offend their therapist with body odour. If not they are super vain, and look after themselves really well, better than most women. Again making an extra effort to be clean.

Men are also the best customers generally, polite, grateful, good tippers, they buy what you tell them to, mostly good conversationalists, and they like a laugh. They are a Beauty Therapist’s dream. A pleasure to do busines with. A walk in the park after dealing with plenty of menopausal women. A walk in the park……


Monday, Monday….

imageGetting up close and personal. 1st blog entry, there’ll be a post every Monday morning!

‘Monday Monday, so good to me.’ Nice song, mama’s & papa’s, wrong sentiment. I find it hard to believe that a Monday has been good to anyone. Prior to this particular Monday, I found myself agreeing to take on a job as an all male waxing therapist. This Monday morning has found me training for such a job. Say what? Monday morning, hairy man balls….this is not so good for me.

The male model, middle age, a naturist, and well, lets say at the very least, comfortable in his own skin. There is nothing attractive about this man, so it isn’t awkward, not in a jump him kind of way. If brad pit or becks walked in, these would be any ladies first choice to get up close and personal to, I think. I don’t know what I would do, blush, smile, try to 69 ’em on the couch? Back to reality. Today’s specimen is an overweight, charmlessly charming, suburban male. The thought of looking at these overweight nether regions, til lunch time, is not filling me with joy.

This is the beginning of the journey of spending a significant amount of my time pulling willies about and staring up arse holes. As close to an arse hole, as anyone is ever gonna get, some doctors and nurses, don’t even get so close to make sure every last stray hair is gone.

Dave waddles around comfortably in his birthday suit, caressing his own rotund belly, exclaiming his clichés loudly and proudly. Which does makes me feel awkward. Oh god, now I’ve got to pretend I am interested in what he is saying, and feign pleasantness. When inside I am thinking, shut the fuck up. I am here to earn a living, not to listen to your pragmatic bullshit. And so Dave continues with his not so wise words of wisdom. ‘At the end of day we’re all the same…. ‘at the end of the day, can’t come quick enough for me. I am looking forward to a moment in time where I don’t have to listen to a middle aged mans bag of shite. I would rather have his poohole in my face than listen to his drivel. I want to get a sign on my forhead STOP TALKING TO ME YOU BORING ARSEHOLE. But being english, I smile sweetly squeeze out a fake laugh, yeah yeah, I know what you mean, yep it’s true(hating myself with my sycophantic lies).

ha bloody ha…. SHHHUUUT UUPPPP!

Only way to get though this is to pretend he doesn’t exist, and do not make eye contact.

What have I let myself in for? What we go through just to earn a living, so we can infrequently treat ourselves to something nice, only to lament our stupidity until the next pay day. That’s what I do anyhoo’s.