The subject matter is Not For Dudes. Please proceed at your own risk, cross your legs and be thankful that you are a man.
I couldn’t help myself from jumping up and dancing during Glee’s rendition of “Dream On.” As I did some major fist pumping, my daughter turns to me and says, “Have you been watching Jersey Shore or something?”
Watch the Jersey Shore? I lived it, baby!
Let me take you back to my girls’ trip to the Jersey Shore in 1990. If you thought the hair on MTV is big now, you should have seen it in the 90s. Imagine Snooki with a perm and acid-washed denim. Even the bumping and grinding were going down back then. (I took pictures of total strangers because we thought that it was hilarious and disturbing. But now that they are in a photo album 20 years later, I seem like a voyeuristic perv. Probably why me and Reality TV get along so well.)
It was a year after college and six of us planned on renting a house on Long Beach Island in Jersey. I was still living at home and thrilled to have another go-around with the college gal pals. The night before, I was all packed and made a last-minute trip to the drugstore for Banana Boat frying oil and Advil. All you really need for vacation. I spotted the DYI bikini wax kit and figure, what the hell. We are going to be basking on the beach every day, might as well.
I lock myself in my room, set up shop and apply the wax in the appropriate places. It turns into yellow crotch candles and I attempt to tear the first strip off. “YOUCH! FIDDLE STICKS! DARN! RATS! GO JUMP IN A LAKE, SALLY HANSEN, YOU EVIL SADIST BITCH!” A giant chuck of my groin is missing and the hair follicles are so enormous that they literally look like tulip bulbs.
I am a bleeding mess.
Dammit. Dammit. Dammit. Now what the hell am I going to do? I can’t hobble down the hall bow-legged past my parents and siblings into the shower.
So for the next hour, I pick off tiny pieces of wax, hair, skin and dignity while trying not to scream. By the time it was all done, I look like I had herpes or the clap. And that was BEFORE the Shore. (Just kidding, mom and dad.)
I spent the whole week at the beach with shorts on.
That’s my version of The Situation.