Spice Up Your Relationship


Spice Up Your Relationship
A humorous excerpt from Marla's latest memoir, Hearts on the Line, involving hot wax.

I take a deep breath...and another.
I close my eyes while Chelsea gently applies the hot, chocolate-
flavored wax, and in seconds I let out a scream. Ayyeeee! The short curlies have been ripped out by the roots. My heart is pounding. Yow, that smarts. Chelsea is waiting for me to man up.
“I guess...most people...scream,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Um, not really.” She has me open my legs like a frog and moves to more intimate sections so the sadism can continue. “The first time is always the most painful though.”
Good to know. Except that there will never ever be a second time for this modern gal. This makes me want to put the natural back in au naturel. This seems as unnatural as it gets.
The experience continues for about twenty minutes. This is
more invasive than a colonoscopy. How does Chelsea do it? She chats, asking me about my job, husband, favorite movies, obviously trying to take my mind off of what is happening. I chatter nervously trying not to think about the fact that I am spread eagle to a stranger.
“You’re almost done,” she says. “Now, I just need you to move back a bit and hug your legs up toward your chest.”
Oh, God, time for the butt crack.
“A lot of people don’t realize that there is hair back there. They are hesitant to have me wax this area, but I tell them, hey, I’ve already seen everything else, so....might as well do it.”
I laugh nervously. “Yeah, might as well....” I grab my knees into a fetal position.
“Wow, look at that tattoo!” Twelve-year-old Chelsea says. “You don’t see too many like that anymore.”
Right, it’s older than she is.
Okay, the ordeal is almost over. I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes even tighter as she applies the hot wax. I smell the chocolate scent, and I’m not sure, but I don’t think I’ll ever feel the same way about chocolate again.
I gasp for air, still hugging my knees. Ow...ow...ow...ow...ow...
ohhh, owwww.
I want my mommy.
“Okay, you’re done!” she chirps and bounces out of the room.
I slowly pull up my panties, stopping at half-mast to take a peek at the new me. Oh My God! What have I done? This is shocking! I quickly dress and step out into the lobby. Chelsea is standing at the front desk. I tip her a ten-dollar bill, but if I were rich, I’d give her a hundred. She certainly deserves it for what she has to do every day.
Brandy gives me a fifteen percent “first time” discount. “Now, we usually recommend coming every five weeks. Would you like to schedule your next appointment now?” Quand les poules auront des dents! When pigs fly!
“No!” I blurt out a bit too fast and loudly. At least I didn’t say, hell, no. “I mean, I’ll call to make an appointment. I have to check my schedule first,” I say unconvincingly.
Don’t get me wrong. The place is really nice; the service, great; and the employees are fabulous; but zee waxeeng? Well, c’est ne pas pour moi!

Article contributed by

Marla Martenson


Marla Martenson, matchmaker & author of Diary of a Beverly Hills Matchmaker

Location: Los Angeles, CA
Credentials: Other
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