There I was, naked from the waist down, to wax my butt, clutching my knees and trying to act like this was not the most vulnerable position possible.
They stood, expectantly in the window, their bodies contorting and shriveling with each movement the woman made, anticipating the climax: the big rip. It was as if they were watching a horror movie they’d already seen.
I should have known when I found the do-it-yourself waxing kit in the pet food aisle at the grocery store. This was merely red flag No. 1.