Something New, But With Pain and Regret

Husband and I are big believers in "doing as the locals do" when traveling. We trust that if the locals do it, it must be good. Even if it is not good, we want to respect and honor the local culture by at least trying. (Although as I type this I recall that I refused to taste haggis in Scotland and black pudding in Ireland.)

I had a kind of local-culture experience yesterday, but I regret it.

"Depilacion" salons are everywhere in Buenos Aires -- almost as ubiquitous as hair salons. Depilacion is waxing or hair removal, and hair salons also offer this service for women and men. I was shocked at how inexpensive it is -- 40 pesos (about $10 USD) to wax the lower half of my legs, bikini area, and underarms. This service at home would cost around $100. It seemed like a low-risk. low-cost opportunity to try something new.

If you are not a woman or gay, you might want to stop reading here.

I had heard that waxing could be painful if the hair was long, but I had shaved in the shower a couple of days before so I thought I was safe. Also, since giving birth to Girl without drugs, my pain tolerance is pretty high. I foolishly assumed that it couldn't be too bad since it is so popular here.

I chose a salon that was clean, well lit, and in a good neighborhood. A pleasant woman led me to a small room with a massage-type table with a headrest. The wax was gooey and dark brown, like carmel/dulce de leche, and had no smell. It was not too hot -- almost comforting -- as the woman spread it on my legs with a wooden paddle.

After about a minute, she pulled the semi-hardened wax up and off. I screamed (not completely unlike Steve Carrell in the 40-Year-Old Virgin) because it felt like skin had been removed along with the wax. The pain was over quickly, fortunately, but there was more fun to come.

She tried to use tweezers to pick at the hairs that escaped the wax -- that was a whole different kind of discomfort. At one point she tried to part my legs, pointing at her targeted area with the wax-laden wooden paddle. "No, gracias! No mas!" I shouted. I know "Brazilian" waxes are popular (they don't call it that here), but I honestly cannot imagine that kind of self-created torture.

Are my legs soft? Yes. Will it be a week or more until I have to shave under my arms? Time will tell. Trying to look at this as a learning experience (first and foremost to never do it again), I am not sure want to think about Argentine women and men who patronize depilacion salons. I think I pity them for subjecting themselves to the wax. A razor is good enough for me.

Sorry, no pictures for this post.