A True Story About Getting a Bikini Wax

Last week I had a few days off so I popped into my local salon for a bikini wax. It was early in the day, the place was empty and I had no trouble getting a waxer. It should be noted that at my salon you don't actually remove your underpantsfor the waxing. You just pull them aside as they work their way around. From what I understand, most people wears thongs for the reason. I, however, was not, since it was a sporadic decision to go in for a wax.

I laid down on the table and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for the fun to begin. I happened to look up and I saw that The Waxer, while working, was giving my nether region a dirty look. At first I thought, "That's not cool," but then realized that maybe it was just my imagination. Maybe I caught her at a bad angle.

I went back to staring at the ceiling and The Waxer continued her duties. I looked over to see how things were going, and AGAIN I caight her giving my business a strange look. At this point I was pretty sure I wasn't losing my mind, but I couldn't exactly say anything being that she was pouring hot wax all over me.

The wax came to end, I peeled myself off the table and gave The Waxer her tip. I was still kind of mad, though. Who was she to make a judgement on my goodies? My goodies had plenty of fans, and if she wanted to hear from them I would have been more than happy to call them on the cell, right here. But I figured The Waxer was just crazy and maybe I should have given her a bigger tip. You know, to make her feel better.

Later that evening while at work I was in the bathroom. That's when I realized why The Waxer was looking at me funny. My underwear, for no particular reason that I can think of, was on -- completely and rather conspicuously -- inside out. The whole time I thought The Waxer was crazy, when really it was me who looked like the crazy person. What kind of person puts on their drawers inside out? Why hadn't I noticed this before?

There is no moral to this story.