A brief word about leg waxing in Mae Sot...

My male readers, you might as well stop reading now, especially those of you that didn't understand the title, before you conclude that the entire female sex suffers from extreme forms of masochistic inclinations. For the rest of you, may I advise against attempting to remove leg hair by waxing in Mae Sot. A veteran waxer, I don't think I have ever experienced more pain than when I made the unwise decision to walk into the little corner salon that advertised "waxe" and boldly ask that they take care of my legs. The last time (yes, it boggles the mind that there was, in fact, a last time) I attempted it here, the woman pulled out several mysterious-looking containers of what turned out to be some stronger version of Nair (there is no way the FDA has approved whatever she used), and proceeded to chemically BURN off my leg hair. My skin itself produced fumes for days afterwards... So, the second time, bolder but not necessarily wiser, I ventured into Salon #2, and inquired about hot wax. "No problem, no problem", she assured me. Smug, proud of my Thai, I rested in the chair, as I saw with satisfaction that she brought out a more appropriate-looking can of steaming wax, that she cooled by lifting and stirring with a wooden spoon. This is where the jubilation ends. Three women, and several curious onlookers crowded around me. She began slathering on the hot, sticky wax all over the top of my legs. "Umm... what are you going to pull it off with?", I asked with not a little bit of concern. No cloth. With swift jerks, two hands on each leg, they began to yank off the wax with their fingers, pulling hair and skin and top layers of bone off with it. I yelped. "Ow ow ow ow ow!!! No! You have to use little strips of CLOTH to pull it off!" "Oh...", they nodded. The elder woman said something quickly to the younger one who ran out the door with some money. "Ok," I thought, "we are getting the cloth, they just had a different technique". The other girl came back and they slathered up my legs again, then, to my horror, she produced a roll of packing tape meant to rip off the wax. "NO. WAY!" I stopped her before my legs were permanently disfigured. There was nothing left to do but re-rip off the wax AGAIN by their fingers. At this point, my hair - what hadn't been violently torn out from the roots along with all of the skin cells surrounding it - hung on in patches, with sorry bits of hardened wax stubbornly clinging to it. My red, traumatized legs and I limped out, hair and all.

I think I will go back to my trusty razor.