I had this golden to-do list for my Wednesday.

1. Get waxed

2. Run 6 miles

3. Write

4. Go on date

God, if that doesn’t sound like an OC divorcee’ housewives mid-week schedule then I don’t know what does.

To me, friendship is everything. I will do anything for my friends. Hence the many hair changes over the past two to three years. If my hairstylist friends have the opportunity to jump start their career by chopping my hair off then I am all about that.

So when Brittany West posted on Facebook that she needs someone to wax, for an opportunity to get hired… I spent no time to respond saying that I am totally game.

When I get nervous I eat, or I do the complete opposite, I don’t eat for days. I eat as much as an O-line football player going through puberty, since I have been training for a half marathon. This Wednesday morning I rapidly stuffed my mouth with a banana, a multi-grained bagel with cream cheese and a pressed juice all in a parking lot of a spa in Rancho Santa Margarita.

Next thing I know I am in a beautiful dark room, with a dear friend that I had not seen since my earlier high school years.  Brittany looks exactly the same from high school except for the additions of ink up and down her arms. Beautiful with golden blonde hair pulled back in low bun and adorable hoop nose ring that hugs her left nostril. Her black Clubmaster Ray Bans perfectly framed her flawless round face.

After briefly catching up, Brittany checks my arms, and my legs, of course I wouldn’t have the right hair that she needs.

“What about your armpits?” she asked politely.

I nervously replied, “Ehh, not much there” and lifted my arm to show her.

Straight faced and surprised she said, “My God you are a hairless wonder.”

“Yeah I didn’t really think this one out.  I don’t have lots of body hair” I feel awful! Why did I come if I didn’t have hair on my legs or pits for her to rip out. All I have are my lady parts and eyebrows.

She lowered the tone of her voice and asked, “What about down under?”

I confidently responded, “Oh that’s a different story”

Smiled and excited she said, “Perfect.”

Brittany leaves the room with guidelines of what I need to do. I aggressively pull my shoes off as if untying my shoelaces are too much work and take off my purple Nike running shorts that my mother gave me for Christmas. I gently let my undies hit the floor and have a mild freak out thinking of how many loose pubes are lurking in the carpet.

I sit back on the table and tightly lay a white blanket on my lap. I start to feel gassy and I think If you fart when you are getting your vagina waxed then you are the most foul person whom ever existed. Keep it together.

Disclaimer: If you get grossed out by pubic hair or vomit than I advise you to stop reading now. If you want to laugh your ass off at my pathetic life then keep reading. You have been warned. Also, boys- yes… girls poop, fart, burp, have body hair including around our vaginas, WOAHHH, and body odor. Guess what, we are just as human as you. Get over it.

Now back to it…  As I restlessly sit waiting for Brittany and the two women who have to watch, I look to my right and there it is– a bowl filled with hot pink wax just waiting to fuck up my day.

The door opens up and following Brittany are two women. One whom is in her mid 40s, absolutely stunning with the perfect blonde hair, the other one seemed to be in her mid twenties.

I lay down and Brittany takes the towel off and shines a fricken light from above like the ones you see before going into mild dental surgery.

I try to make small talk and charm the ladies since I am trying to help my girl land a job. The more I talk the more I realize how stupid I look to converse as they have a clear shot at my pubic area. So I shut up and continue looking at the ceiling as Britt touches my high inner thighs to my bikini line.

“I owe you endless amounts of lunches and dinners for doing this.” Brittany says to me and the ladies laugh.

I wanted to say “Well you didn’t even buy me a drink and look where we are at now” or something stupid and perverted like that. I kept my mouth shut because shit like that isn’t that funny when you have a fluorescent light bulb exposing all of the goods.

Before I knew it, Britt layered on the wax to my left bikini line. Smoothening and applying as if my body is a warm cake and the wax is my frosting. I look to see as she gently grabs the white strip of paper and I think holy shit, there is no backing out now. I held my breath and she ripped that piece of paper off with as much force as when one quickly rips open a bag of chips in class with the intentions to not make a scene.

I said while laughing, “That wasn’t that bad. It’s just like when someone slaps your skin when you are sunburnt.”

The more she waxed the more it hurt. I closed my eyes and I took deep breathes and thought exactly what I was doing to my body. Each little pubbie is being ripped from my hypodermis, through the dermis and out of the epidermis. WHAT THE FUCK AM I DOING?! No this hurts, this hurts like hell. How is it that my first girl kiss at 15, Britt West, is ripping my vagina apart right now? This is either really funny and ironic or weird and twisted. It’s none of those. It’s just my life.

The ladies and Brittany were in discussion as I chose to listen to my own self-pity of intense pain. I come back to reality just in time when Britt asks me a terrible question, “Do you mind if we do one more on the top?”

My skin, annoyed and feeling like it needed to be iced told me no, but I said, “Anything for you, babe.”

Oh no I totally forgot about a few days before when I was drunk and ran my pubic bone into the corner of a counter. I have a nice deep bruise right where the wax is being applied. Uh oh.

One. Two. Three. RIPPPPPPPPPPP

“Oh shit” I said in pain. I tried to calm my breathing. I could only think of the 40 Year- Old-Virgin when Steve Carrel gets his chest waxed and he’s screaming obserdities. That’s how I felt but I didn’t let it out.

Britt is done with the wax and she begins plucking me. The little bastards that didn’t pull through with the wax were the ones to be plucked. I felt like a pesticide and hormone filled sad turkey being plucked for Thanksgiving.

It’s all over and three women are standing over me as they analyze my vagina and irritated skin. I continue looking at the ceiling thinking all we need is a camera crew and it’s basically a porno. God save my soul. 

I leave thanking Britt and she thanks me endlessly. We promised each other to get drinks and rekindle our 7 year lost friendship.

I feel rather faint and nauseous as I am walking to my car to grab my earbuds and water bottle to start my 6 mile run.

I begin my run and I there is a tension in my shorts. I realize that there is a little bit of wax on the crevasse between my butt cheek and the fat of my leg. I start to laugh as I separate my butt from my leg. It’s hard to focus on my run and my body when all I can think is this is sad…my God you have a fat ass Danika. Instead of positive thoughts on my run, I totally began to hate my body.

By mile two I am completely cramped up on both sides with the default feeling that death is upon me. I shouldn’t have ate so much food this morning. At least you didn’t fart in there. Yay go you. 

This is the worst run I have encountered during my weeks of training. Negative thoughts, sticky butts and pain running up and down my rib cage. I continued to be a bitch to myself. Then I think Why am I torturing myself on this already shitty run?! Like come on ya big baby… you just got your pubes waxed for free #blessed

I couldn’t keep going. I felt dizzy again. I felt light as if I would faint. Then all of a sudden I rip my earbuds out of my ears, turn to the grass on the sidewalk beside me and throw my phone on the grass. I cough it up and it all comes out.

I am baby puking on the side of Antonio Parkway. It just so happens that it is high traffic right after Santa Margarita High School got released from class. I know I am totally fucked. Everyone who is stopped at this stop light just saw green vomit fly through the air. I am sure they can’t tell which is the grass or which came from my belly.

As I am curled over with my hands on my knees, I experience a flashback of being on the track doing hellish conditioning during my volleyball career. I spit to the ground and slowly raise up and look forward hoping that I could magically be invisible.

In a black Mercedes Benz Class “I don’t really give a shit” is a blonde boy, with an iphone pointing directly at me. Him and his mom are rudely laughing at me as if I am a zoo animal with an erection or something. Ya know, cause it’s so funny seeing animals with a raging “out of this world” boner.  I get in my power stance, cause all pissed off chicks have one, stare him down and naturally– I stick my shaking middle finger to him.

Mommy dearest is pissed off and say’s “How dare you do that to my son!” and rolls up his window like he’s not capable of doing it himself.

I really wanted to lecture those two ass-wipes a few things about manners but I still stood dizzy waiting to puke again.

The red light turned to green and I continued to flip them off as they drove off. On the back side of that beautiful car stuck a Santa Margarita decal sticker. I sunk my hand to my side and my face went numb. oh fuck, why me

I am probably on all of that kids social media pages. Twitter, Instagram, oh I am for sure on Snapchat. Who knows, the brat could put me on Pornhub. Either way, I am screwed.

I lean down to pick up my phone and earbuds and my earbuds are splattered in green puke. Joy. I run 4 more miles without music. I felt more pain in my stomach and couldn’t channel that into Avicii’s Silhouettes. I got stronger and stronger as I listened to my breathing, and the environment surrounding me.

I got back to my adorable car, sat down and felt compelled to check Facebook.

“Brittany West tagged you in a post….” My left thumb shook and clicked open the notification.

“Danika Miller is a rockstar. Not only have we started the rekindling of our lost friendship, but she was my model that helped me land a job at a beautiful establishment! You’re a fucking stud, Danika.”

I smiled and threw my head back against my seat. See D, the pain is all worth it. 

That moment settled my ego. I shouldn’t care what a dweeb, privileged kid does to my reputation on social media. I don’t care. He will get his one day because karma is one hell of a biznatch and takes no prisioners. And in that moment I got over it.

I texted Britt and said “Yay! My pubes are so happy for you!”

That Wednesday proved to me something I have been waiting to prove. I am much stronger than I give myself credit. 

It does not feel good to get my hair ripped out of my skin. But I did it. It does not feel good to hold so much anxiety that I feel weak and dizzy. But I did it. To push through and run 4 more miles after humiliating myself on the side of the road isn’t the most glamorous situation. But I stood up, shook it off and did it.

I am doing this thing called life. It hurts like a bikini wax. It get’s as weird as your first girl kiss touching your inner thighs. It sucks like baby puking. It get’s as boring as running 4 miles without music. It get’s as controversial as flipping off a minor in public.

Yet, It get’s as real as rekindling a friendship. It make’s for a fabulous time when you can help who you love. Life is amazing and at often times not pretty, but damn it– it’s worth it.

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