I promised before that I'd write about Andre. It's a bit of a long story, and there's no definite end other than the fact I haven't seen him since this past summer.
A lot of this is stitched together from fragments of memories and what I recorded in my journals. Some of the timeline is confused. Some details are added in retrospect, some details have been forgotten. This is an exercise I try to perform with myself every year, remembering that summer in all its beauty...
We met in Kingston, ON in July 2009. At that time, I was still "with" JM, a boy I'd met on the bus to university.
Quick summary: About four days before I left for Kingston, JM and I made out in a bathroom, and then decided we liked each other enough to try to keep in touch while I was away for the next four months. We agreed to "keep things open" though, considering how little we knew about each other and how unfair it would be to claim we were "in a relationship". The first weekend into my course, most of our course went out drinking. GK, a man from our course, danced with me, and then started kissing me. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with that, so I stopped. About a month later, I went drinking with some Reg Force guys. CV, a Reg Force line tech, and I shared a cab back to shacks. He walked me to my room to make sure I'd be allright. And somehow we ended up on the bed and he was licking my nipples. He wasn't doing a good job, so I flipped him over and showed him how it's done. By that point I had sobered up a little, and gently convinced him to leave.
This brings us to mid-late July.
My father had taken ill. Mom called me on the weekend to tell me. My roommate saw me shoving my face into a towel, trying not to let Mom know I was crying. It was bad. Dad had some kind of infection and his body was so deep in shock that he lost his vision. The doctors had given him a "50/50" chance after looking him over. They didn't know what was wrong, they suspected a blood infection.
I went home for a week to visit him.
While I was at home, I took the opportunity to visit JM as well. We were both virgins at penetrative sex. (I had touched a penis (sexually) twice in my life and he had received a blowjob once.) We went to his place and I told him I wanted to have penetrative sex. He asked if I was sure, I confirmed, and he went to fetch a condom. When he returned, he was limp, and despite all efforts, we couldn't get him stiff enough to even get the condom on. We shrugged it off. In retrospect, it was the best thing that could have happened (but more on that later).
My father got slightly better, and I returned to Kingston to complete my course.
While I had been away, another course arrived. And on this course was a man named Andre. He looked to be, at least in his thirties. His smile was young, but the lines, the greying hair, and the sadness you could sometimes see on his face or in his eyes, it all contradicted with his seemingly youthful attitude to life. He struck me as a man who had experienced "the finer things of life" and decided he wanted it simple afterall.
As it happened, I wasn't far off. He was thirty-nine that year (as a Gemini, he'd already had his birthday by then), and used to be a salesman. I wouldn't find out until later, but he had been a very successful salesman and had enjoyed wealth and the experiences it availed; staying in luxury hotels and ordering any dish on the merest whim... But he got sick of the lifestyle, quit his job and joined the Army. I'd also find out, he had three children.
But none of this mattered, partly because I didn't know at the time, and partly because it just didn't matter anyway. Well, to be honest, I was curious about his age, so I stole a glance at his military ID.
He introduced himself to me when I returned to Kingston.
"I don't think we've met."
"I'm Charlie."
"Well Charlie, I'm Andre."
"Hi Andre."
It was bewildering to me at the time why someone would introduce himself that way. I was flattered but confused at the structure and....forwardness.
Thinking back now, I can barely remember how we got to know each other in those early days...
One weekend, we went to see the Kingston Symphony Orchestra perform Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at Fort Henry (which I thought was extremely poetic).
Andre drove a European SUV: leather upholstery, sunroof, digitally controlled seats you could move by pushing buttons... I'm not a "car-person", but feeling that engine was one of the most exhilarating+luxurious+empowering things I'd ever felt. Plus, he was a decent driver, though he'd be a jerk sometimes and speed up just so someone couldn't pass him.
We took photos around Fort Henry. I enjoyed making canon-penis poses. At one point, I got dizzy looking down a flight of stairs. Andre offered me his hand.
The orchestra played. It was beautiful. And there were cannons and fireworks, and it was brilliant.
Andre loved it so much, he also went the second night. Back at shacks, I didn't know where he'd gone. I think I might have known he was going again and maybe was under the impression he wanted to take me again. Whatever it was, I wanted to get a hold of him, so I wrote him a note and stuck it to his room door. It had my phone number.
My roommate, since she lived nearby, had gone home for the weekend. Later that night, Andre came by my room.
"I knew you'd write me a note. Well, that's not true--I had hoped. I had really, really hoped you would write me a note today." We talked briefly. I don't remember anymore. Somewhere in there, I may have mentioned I like giving and receiving back rubs, but a lot of people seem to think it's strange to do that with a stranger or even acquaintance, so I have nobody to receive from. Andre said he'd be fine with that.
One night, a bunch of us went to a pub to hang out. We talked and talked and talked. We came back to shacks and talked. Finally, we got sleepy and began leaving. Andre said, "Goodnight, sweetheart."
Some nights later, a bunch of us went drinking. It was the night that started everything in motion.
It was a mess trying to find a good place to drink, but we did, and eventually Andre and I cabbed back to shacks. He asked if it was "backrub time", so I obliged and spread a sheet over a spare bed. He lay himself down and I started on his upper back. Somewhere in there, his shirt disappeared and I didn't fight it except to say it would be rough without oil (I didn't have any).
Then he started playing with my feet, giving them a little massage at the same time. Eventually he rolled onto his back and we just started talking, trailing our hands over eachother a little.
He told me he had liked me from the instant he saw me, that it was magnetic, he was drawn to me. I had gained a lot of his respect very quickly, which was very strange because he is often skeptical of people and others often have to do something extraordinary to earn that level of respect from him.
He also wondered why I "chose" him--reminding me of PMK from my BMQ/SQ. What about him made this--snuggling--allowable to me?
Andre said he'd been single for a long time, because he's very picky and doesn't want a girl whom he can just pick up at a bar--he doesn't want sex, and if sex is so easy, there's almost no point. He doesn't think he could sleep with a perfect stranger. I half-agreed, telling him a little about my history...
We continued laying, skimming our hands across eachother and chatting. I mentioned again that in my head is a remnant of the "shy fat girl" personality from earlier years. He then went on to extol my virtues, including that I'm smart and attractive. I laughed only a little. He gave me such praise, it was so painful: "I am so lucky. The luckiest man in the world could not ask for what you are willing to give me", "You're an angel", "You're a doll."
I brought up--it was on topic but I can't remember now why--how I thought penises are gross. I lied a little though: my curiosity was beginning to at least equal and perhaps surpass my repulsion, for most things; I exaggerated how much they freaked me out. He posed a question to me: "So if I were to place your hand here on my pants, what would you do?"
Initially, I didn't understand. "I'd probably punch you in the face and throw you out of my room."
He laughed. He meant in a mutually permissive and exploratory way. I told him I didn't want to find out that night. I was thinking about JM.
We snuggled a lot. He took off my bra from under my shirt. I refused at first to let him kiss me, but then allowed him to kiss me so long as he understood I would never kiss him in return. He would try to touch my breasts and I would deny him. "It'd be worth it, breaking my thumbs, for just a touch."
We found a position where we'd support the other's head with the arm closest to the other.
"I'd rather use the strength from lifting my head to instead lift yours."
"I like that," I said.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked. I paused.
"I could become comfortable," I replied.
"You mean it?" He sounded eager.
"Wait, what?" I was confused. "What do you mean?"
Somewhere in that confusion, I explained, "I have someone back home. Now, you and I can either have something entirely physical and that would be the end of it, or continue as close friends." He said he'd much rather take the friends part.
"We're being intimate right now, not necessarily sexual. ... Last night, after I said goodbye, I went back to my room and just lay there, thinking I should go back. But then I thought, if I went back and knocked on your door, you'd ask, 'What do you want?' And I wouldn't know how to reply. 'To spend more time with you'? 'To be in your company'? 'To get to know you better', 'to just hang out with you'? I just didn't have an answer."
We continued until we both drifted off. We slept in the same bed with one sheet and one blanket.
He'd snore, though; and I'd freak out lest someone hear us and suspect a man in my room. I woke a few times: 0600, then 0700, then someone's alarm went off and I started. Around 0730 we both woke up ("I love waking next to you, feeling your warmth, your skin, your muscles") and started touching eachother some more. It got sexual fast, I guess that happens easily in the morning. He made his way to my breasts, my nipples, started sucking on them, using his tongue to circle around them. He tried his teeth a few times, but I'd recoil, and he got the idea. I'd wrapped a leg around him, and he had a thigh between my legs, which I started grinding into. Then he shifted so that he was pressing his crotch into my thigh.
I could feel him getting hard through his pants when he pressed into me. He started moaning, said, "Oh yes" a few times and--I'm not sure if he came. I didn't feel a wet spot, I think, but he was wearing pants... I just remember his hips bucking slightly, his grip tightening, I think I heard him say "Oh god", then he slowed down, then took a few moments to himself and went back to work on my nipples.
I showed him my preferred technique, which unfortunately ended up burning out my left nipple for a while. We cooled off, laying with eachother, calming down and regaining ourselves.
Then he realised he had to take a leak, but it wouldn't make sense for him to come back to my room after--too risky. We parted ways and he called me Sweetheart again.
JM and I fought over this. I found it stupid, considering we agreed to keep things open. Had I been honest with myself, I would have admitted that I didn't like GK or CV and that's why I didn't continue with them. But I liked Andre. He was a gentleman, he didn't take and he was always..... curious, gauging my responses. He made me feel like he was listening to everything.
At the time I was undecided, but now I just hate the way JM would rush in like he knew everything about how I wanted to be touched all the time. I hated it.
I told JM I didn't want to lose him over Andre, but that I needed companionship out here. It's very hard to not have any friends in a strange city. (I would later realise AB had been a friend to me, and we would become better friends... And then I would become angry at her because of just one little trait that pissed me right the fuck off. And then we'd be good again.)
I don't think I can fully explain what it's like. I'm sure someone would be able to explain it, but I think it's extremely difficult, partly because what happens is...your perceptions change, and you begin to take things for granted, and because of that, you don't think it's worth mentioning those details. I don't think I could catalogue for you all the assumptions and biases and expectations I've developed from being on course.
In any case, I told JM I wasn't about to ditch this amazing relationship with Andre just for him. I agreed not to pursue "intimacy" with Andre again. But that would prove impossible...
Sunday, January 30, 2011
Andre - Part One
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Math Jokes
My Favourite Math Jokes
There are a LOT of math jokes out there, but I thought I'd like to collect my favourites together, if for nothing more than my own benefit. I am re-telling them as best as I can remember, but perhaps one day I will add sources (or speculation).
BAR JOKES
Infinitely many mathematicians walk into a bar.
The first orders a beer; the second orders half a beer; the third, a quarter; an eighth... Before the next can even open her mouth, the bartender says, "You're all idiots!" and pours two beer.
Hidden joke: A good bartender always cuts you off before you reach your limit!
Three mathematicians walk into a bar.
...
You'd think the second one would have ducked.
STORIES
great for speaking aloud
The Really Shitty Hotel
For some reason, a Mathematician, a Physicist and an Engineer have to share a room for the night, but the only place available is a very shady hotel on the wrong side of town. But since there's nothing else, they bunk there.
It's a really shitty hotel. Partway through the night, a fire breaks out in a corner of the room, and for some reason, only the Engineer wakes up. She says, "Oh shit, a fire!" and looks about the room. She sees a garbage can, picks it up, dumps it out, fills it with water, dumps the water on the flame. Sure enough, the flame goes out. She then pours douses the ashes for good measure, and promptly goes back to sleep.
It's a really shitty hotel. A couple hours later, another fire breaks out in another corner of the room, and for some reason, only the Physicist wakes up. She says, "Oooh-hoo-hoo, a fire!" and takes out some instruments, a calculator and starts measuring the flame and garbage can and calculating. She fills the garbage can three-quarters (plus or minus a tenth) full of water and dumps it on the flame. Sure enough, the flame goes out, and she promptly goes back to sleep.
It's a really shitty hotel. A couple hours later, another fire breaks out in another corner of the room, and for some reason, only the Mathematician wakes up. She rubs her eyes and squints and says, "Ooh-hoo-hoo, a problem! Let's see now..." She looks around the room. "A-ha! A garbage can!" She picks it up and inspects it for holes. Finding none, she rushes to the bathroom. "Let's see, let's see." She turns on the faucet and water flows out. "A-ha!" she exclaims, "there exists a solution to the problem!" and promptly goes back to sleep.
A mad scientist wanted to freshen his stock of brains, so he went to his local dealer. Lawyers' brains were on sale for $50/kg. Doctors' were $90/kg. Further down the aisle, he saw that Mathematicians' brains were an astounding $5000/kg.
He asked the clerk why this was.
The clerk replied, "Are you kidding me? Do you KNOW how many mathematicians it takes to get a kilo of brains??"
Train Ride
(This one is great for telling aloud, just make sure to make the "knock-knock" gesture, too!)
There's this convention over in the next city, so a group of mathematicians and a group of engineers have to share a train together. And mathematicians and engineers don't get along very well. As they're all boarding, some mathematicians notice that, out of all the engineers, only one of them has a ticket. Of course, all the mathematicians have their tickets. And the mathematicians start laughing: "Those stupid engineers! They're going to get booted off the train!"
At this time, an engineer comes running down the train, shouting, "Guys, the guard's coming; he's coming to check our tickets!" All the engineers pile into one bathroom. The guard comes along and checks each mathematician's ticket: "Ticket please!" The guard goes up to the engineers' bathroom and knocks--knock, knock. "Ticket please!" One ticket comes out. The guard stamps it; it goes back in.
And the mathematicians' minds are totally blown--what a good idea! They decide to copy it for the ride home. So, on the way back, out of all the mathematicians, only one has a ticket. Out of all the engineers, not one of them has a ticket! And the mathematicians start laughing: "Those stupid engineers! They're going to get booted off the train!"
At this time, a mathematician comes running down the train, shouting, "Guys, the guard's coming; he's coming to check our tickets!" All the mathematicians pile into one bathroom--all the engineers pile into another bathroom. The last engineer, before going into the bathroom, goes over to the mathematicians' bathroom and knocks--knock, knock.
("Ticket please!")
Careers
Two young students, both very good at math, realise they don't know what they want to do when they grow up, so they decide to see a guidance counselor.
"We don't know what to do when we grow up, but we're very good at problem-solving!"
The guidance counselor happens to have the perfect test for them. The test consists of two parts.
The first student is brought into a room, and in the room is: a table, a kettle sitting on the table, and a stove. The problem is this: boil the water in the kettle. "Well that's stupid," the student says, but he picks up the kettle off the table, places it on the stove, turns the stove on, and in a few minutes, the water boils.
The second student performs the same test with the same results.
"Excellent," the guidance counselor says, "you both passed the first part. Now for the second."
The first student is brought back into the same room, only now, the kettle is sitting on the floor. "WTF?" the student says, but he picks up the kettle off the floor, places it on the stove, turns the stove on, and in a few minutes, the water boils.
The second student is then brought into the room. He stares at the kettle which is now sitting on the floor. "Hey," he says, "this looks familiar..." He walks around, viewing the kettle from a different angle; he's very obviously thinking hard. "Wait a second," he says. He picks the kettle up off the floor, places it on the *table* and exclaims, "Aha, a problem I have already solved!" He then picks the kettle up off the table, places it on the stove, turns the stove on, and in a few minutes, the water boils.
The two students report back to the counselor. "How'd we do?" they ask.
The counselor turns to the first student. "You can be an engineer," the counselor says proudly, "because, when faced with a new problem, you found a unique and practical solution!" The first student beams and goes away. "You, however," the counselor says to the second student, "will only be a mathematician, because you can only reduce problems to ones you've already solved."
Renee Descartes walks into his favourite bar and takes a seat. The bartender asks, "Will you have your usual today?" Renee Descartes ponders a moment.
"I think not," he replied--and promptly vanished.
Talking to Mathematicians
Q: How can you tell when the person talking to you is a mathematician?
A: He looks at his shoes.
Q: How can you tell when the mathematician talking to you is an extrovert (ie: outgoing)?
A: He looks at *your* shoes.
Theorem:
All positive numbers are interesting.
Proof:
Assume the contrary. Then there exists a lowest non-interesting positive number. But, hey, that's pretty interesting! (A contradiction.)
I used u for
∫ ex dx.
At the time, it felt right, but it was so wrong
Q: What did the successful mathematician do when she got constipated?
A: She worked it out with a pencil.
"Let epsilon be a large negative number..."
MATH/ART/SCIENCE SLASH
"What're you doing?"
"Oh, just curve sketching..."
"... Are those nipples?"
Said the portrait artist to the physicist, "What a coincidence! I'm studying black bodies, too!"
NERD LOVE AND PICK-UP LINES
"I'd love to be one-to-one and onto you."
"Come be my epsilon-neighbourhood!"
(give me a hug :3 )
"Hey there, wanna find my points of inflection?"
"Wanna hold my z constant?"
"Can I take your derivative--cuz I'd love to lie tangent to your curves."
"Let me be your secant, cuz I'd love to touch your two points."
ALTERNATIVELY
"Can I be your secant--I don't think I could just touch you once."
"I bet I can fill your concavities."
"I've got something you can integrate."
"Baby, I can last all night, just let me do it once and once more."
"Baby, I got the perfect gift for you, it just won't fit in the margin that's all!"
"Hey, I got some great ideas for that Three Body Problem."
"Hey, I gots a bit of a Sphere Packing problem here..."
"Wanna see my tight closures?"
...more to follow as I think of them, will tag under "jokes".
Monday, July 5, 2010
Catching up
A lot has happened since my last post. For starters...
- finished my training in Kingston, ON
- broke up with JM, got back together, broke up, got back together, and finally in December 2009 broke up for the last time.
- met Olek in Calculus, started seeing each other casually, then as we got to know each other through the next few months, fell in love. It's a long and complicated story for me to tell. Maybe in another post. But together we're now the happiest we've ever been.
- got a job at a Tim Hortons working overnights, until I can go to Kingston again in July
- ...
post from 3 June 2010
Feet
Summer of 2009, I went to Kingston, Ontario for my Apprenticeship training as a Signals Operator. It was four months of good, hard work. Towards the beginning of the last month, we had a short navigation exercise in place of our usual ruck march. I had two teammates, JP from Alberta and PE from PEI (strangely). One person would be the Radio person, carrying the radio, making radio checks, that sort of thing. Another would be the Navigator, leading the rest of us. And the last person was deemed the Safety person, making sure everyone got water/shade.
The Radio person would carry the radio in their rucksack. To make things easier, we swapped rucksacks.
Now, PE is a pretty humble (maybe even simple) but strong/convicted person. If something makes sense to him, it's sort of absolute in his mind. If it doesn't make sense, it doesn't really matter, so long as he knows what to do. I think we decided to put the radio into JP's or my ruck. We had three rucks: Radio, EP's and Spare (either mine or JP's, I can't remember). To switch up the roles, we would just switch rucks.
For one branch, I carried EP's, and it was entirely too heavy. I know mine was just a hair under the requirement of, I think, 11kg. I can't guess how heavy his ruck was, but 11kg was just right for me, being a rather petite Chinese girl. His was too heavy for me, and that should have been the end of discussion right there. I should have demanded we switch the radio, but I didn't. However, partway through the route, I asked to take a break.
I think JP was navigating at the time. He said no, so that we could make good time. I then asked if we could walk slower. Again, he said no. And since I didn't draw the line earlier, I should have drawn it there. But there's something about the military attitude that tells you anything less is weakness and weakness doesn't belong.
I don't know why. Nobody takes me seriously. Maybe I trust too easily.
So we continued, and I fell behind. JP and PE would stop periodically and encourage me to hurry up.
After the navigation exercise was the Battle Fitness Test (13km ruck march in 2hr 26min wearing 24.5kg; then fireman-carry a soldier of similar height/weight for 100m in 60s; then shovel out a box of gravel into another box [roughly 2m by 1m and less than 1m deep] in 6min).
Aside
I just finished reading this blog entry about a navy PO doing a BFT.
"The pain to an extent, the mental discipline of ignoring the pain, the running, the walking, countering the increasing desire to quit, counting breaths, were all variable within my realm of control. Leg spasms and Charlie-horses, however, were outside of that realm of control and threatened to ruin everything."
That's something I can really appreciate. It's not just the physical exertion, but the mental exertion to block out the pain and keep going and refusing to quit. I've done two BFTs in my life so I can't tell you if it gets harder or easier.
And after the BFT was the 2-week field training exercise (FTX).
That was the hardest month of my life, physically. And I wasn't sure how my relationship with JM would survive. (There's another story for another day, the story of Andre, a man I met in Kingston. Thinking about him and how he'd impacted my life helped me through that month.)
I managed to get to the base hospital once after the FTX and spoke with a nurse of sorts. She told me I had a "metatarsal drop". Basically, there's an arch where our toes join our feet, sort of like the undersides of our knuckles on our hands. And that arch is what absorbs impact first when our feet touch the ground. But for my left foot, one of those toe bones had fallen out of the arch, so that now, all that impact would go on that one knuckle-joint. She asked how old I was, and then recommended I get out of the military. I wanted to scream.
Fortunately, she did give me some spongy cushions to put in my shoes. It might help, she said. Maybe.
Thankfully, they worked, though they were so awkward to use, that I only wore them every second day, and that worked out fine in Kingston.
After
post from 7 Feb 2010
Math
I feel like I'm going through a sort of second adolescence.
When I was a teenager growing up, I was trying to figure out who I was. Now, I have a clearer idea of who I am, but I'm not so sure where I will fit into society.
I guess this started a few days ago when I went to talk to a program advisor on campus. I thought I was taking the correct courses, but turns out I'm not. So I'll have to change my program, maybe. If I'm lucky, they'll let me use my current courses.
I talked to a Math Advisor, who happened to be my Multivariable Calc professor! I told him I'm not certain what I like to do with Math or where even I could be employed in the future.
(I must pause for a moment to address this: In my mind, it seems very clear that I'm going to marry Olek, he'll be an Actuary and I'll be--whatever I'll be--so he can ring in all that money and I could potentially be a career housewife. It's an interesting image to have so clear in my mind...)
As I was talking to my prof, I mentioned that I love Math but don't terribly enjoy working with numbers. He remarked that it wasn't so uncommon as those who love literature but dislike spelling. I said I might have been interested in going into either Academia or Pure Math, except that I'd need to be much better at it. And then he said something that sobered me up:
"If you're the kind of person who wakes up with a problem you came up with that night, and decides to spend all day solving it, and enjoy every moment of it, then maybe Academia is for you. But then you're competing with hundreds of people just like that, and you'll have to be the best of those. Then you move onto Graduate Studies, and you'll have to be the best of those. Then you go to find employment and--do you see where I'm going with this?"
I may have the love of math, but I don't have this competitiveness.
I've also had to come to terms with an unusual presupposition I've had. I've had to finally realise that I am, in fact, not a prodigy. I'm not specially gifted at any one thing. Instead, I am somewhat gifted in several areas.
Dad told me a Chinese fable. Here's what I recall from it:
One cannot look at two things and see both clearly.
One cannot listen to two things and hear both clearly.
In the animal kingdom, there is an animal [a lizard, I think] with no talents except one. He cannot run or jump or swim, but he can fly. Yet, in the animal kingdom, there is an animal with five talents. He thinks he is so smart, that when a predator comes, he can do any of these five things to get away. Yet when the predator comes, he cannot decide quickly enough and is eaten anyway. But the other animal, the one that is so dumb that he can only do one thing, when the predator comes for him, he does the one thing he knows how to do and flies away.
I get the point.
I think I'll go into education. It's a humble profession, but I'm not a terribly humble person. I always want to teach everything--I want to tell everyone everything... I always assume everyone wants to know the things I know. But that isn't always so, and I gotta learn that.
Though I might just work consultation... Or any odd-job, really...
"People who are good at math are often good problem-solvers. And some employers just look for that," my prof had said, "not just at the degree."
I wouldn't just be doing math at my job... My prof said that there's a shortage of science teachers... I wonder if I can fill that role...
For Education, I'd need two "teachable" subjects... Math and...?
Comp Sci (I already have some credits...)
Physics (that would be a BITCH to get a degree in...)
Art (if there's no one else)
Music (if there's no one else)
English (a degree I really don't want to have to get)
So, now to think who I'll be to the world...
It's so strange--I mean, I'm so young... And I've found someone whom I want to be in my life--the rest of my life... I want to make him waffles for breakfast, exchange kisses on our way to work, eat last night's leftovers for lunch, come home to each other, make dinner together, exchange stories about how our respective days went, eat together, maybe have a drink and relax and fall asleep together.
...post abandoned
Monday, December 7, 2009
Wax
My life has been ENTIRELY TOO INTERESTING lately, but I took a break today. And this is all I want to talk about:
Brazilian Wax
So, the first time I had a Brazilian wax was this summer while training in Kingston, ON. I went to an Aveda spa, can't remember which, and had this fantastic aesthetician work her magic on my twat (yeah, what is it about me and aestheticians?).
Then, this past October, I went to Calgary to visit friends and family. We wanted to go swimming, and I realised I'd been neglecting my kitty. I picked up some Parissa Hot Wax from the drugstore and took it to the place I was staying. Unfortunately, I was staying with my brothers, so I sneaked into the kitchen late at night, heated the wax over the stove, sneaked back to the bathroom, waxed myself, and when the wax would harden, I'd sneak back to the kitchen and repeat.
It was TERRIBLE. I guess this is why spas play relaxing music.
I had wanted to wax my armpits and give myself a full Brazilian... On my first application, I scalded my armpit skin, and applied the wax too thin, so it didn't come off entirely! It was terribly awkward!
Then I was brave or foolish enough to try my kitty. I didn't get very far. I tried maybe two applications before I couldn't bear the pain anymore. Unfortunately, I'd gotten some of the wax stuck in the other hairs, so had to pull those out by hand just so I didn't have green wax stuck to my pubes!
Overall, my first attempt with self- hot waxing was an utter failure.
However, anything that I'll try once, I'll usually try twice.
Today I felt rather adventurous, and attempted again. I had the kitchen all to myself, with no parents or siblings around. This time, I let the wax cool until about the consistency of honey before applying to my armpits. Worked like a charm. I completed both armpits with minimal resistance.
Then, I felt adventurous. I stripped further.
I guess I was more relaxed this time (and warmer, too!) so my bikini line went without much resistance, either. I felt more adventurous.
I'll admit, it felt weird putting a warm liquid substance on my twat and trying to convince myself it wasn't sexual. I did the whole procedure standing up, one leg on the kitchen counter, sometimes using one hand to pull on my butt or lips.
My labia were a little awkward. But, honestly, hot wax feels just.... Ooh, warm and wonderful on my twat. Just... Once when I was holding my lips apart, my grip slipped and my lips closed, the warm wax touching my clitoral hood. My reaction:
1. Oh, oh wow that feels nice;
2. Oh shit, that's going to hurt pulling off.
Fortunately, (and for WHATEVER REASON) the wax didn't stick, and came off easily. Yeah. Okay, enough of that.
Waxing my asscrack was a also awkward. I kept feeling around to make sure I'd gotten it all. I doubted myself once, and waxed the area again. Unfortunately, I slipped again, and my butt cheeks sandwiched the wax between them. That was difficult to remove.
At the very end, I still had maybe a half centimetre of wax left, so I decided to wax my legs, just to see what would happen (I've never waxed or shaved my legs, since the little hair I have there is also very fine). The wax was too thin sometimes and left little bits on my legs. Other than that, it would have been fine.
All in all, not a bad experience. For eight bucks, I waxed my armpits, my entire kitty, and patches of my legs. I'd definitely do this again.
Final note: if I ever decide to wax my face, I would DEFINITELY use a different wax. The popsicle-stick wooden applicators are just too clunky to get my eyebrows.
--Charlie
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
