Bests & Worsts Reviews from Amazon

*Disclaimer* If you don’t like curse words or have PTSD from feeling like you almost ripped your cooch and/or starfish off from a similar experience then you may want to stop reading right now. Have a blessed day and stay off the Deal of the Day section on the Amazons. A couple of months ago at approximately 6am on a Saturday morning I was in early bird mode ready to get some things around the house done, I may or may not have had a little drinky drink bc I was feeling like having one of those super fun “let’s act like we are 21 today and be real fun and cool so let’s start day drinking and have a good ole time!!” days. I assure you that is not how the day turned out although I can also assure you that I had several, SEVERAL drinks after this incident. My original plan was to do some housework, maybe finish painting one of the bedrooms I’ve been working on remodeling, pressure wash the porch (if I wasn’t already banned from using the pressure washer.. but that’s a whole different story and review lol..), and things of that nature. Unfortunately for me, that did not happen. My Captain Morgan loving self happened to walk through the dining room where I saw one of the many packages that magically appear when my wonderful man doesn’t want to continue to hear me say I need an item that I absolutely do not need when I browse through the *Deal of the Day* section of the Amazons. It was at this moment that either Karma or the glutton for punishment that must live deep in my subconscious decided I was gonna break out my brand spanking new waxing kit aka this bad boy. I’d had approximately 3 Brazilians done before so I was hyping myself up like, “Girrrrrl! Come on, this won’t be that bad! I mean it wasn’t really that bad when you had it done before, don’t be a baby. I’ll be done in like 3 swipes like the nice little Asian lady was!! AND!!! You won’t even have a stranger all up on the cooch! ANDDD! Then maybe Steve will think we did a great job and he’ll let us wax his gooch or balls or something... That would make it worth it just so you can listen to him whine since he's always making fun of you for complaining/whining... hehehehe. Yeah girl, we got this!!! This will be awesome!! Peaches and cream, baby!” Oh how naive I was.. *Spoiler alert* It was not peaches and cream; it was not peaches and cream at all. The only thing peachy here was that the ultimate end result was softer than a little baby peach before it even had a chance to get its fuzz violently ripped off by an uncertified, tipsy, now traumatized woman with a whole lot of hot, hot wax. 🍑🥴🤣 Man, oh, man... Let me tell y’all something... I’ve never cussed so much in my entire life and I'm almost positive that I invented some new cuss words and I didn’t even know that was possible. Well, let’s just start with the fact that if I hadn’t come up with new bad words then I wouldn’t have even needed to go to church on Sunday bc I saw Jesus for at least 2.7 seconds when I did the first little “test strip”, which I idiotically decided to do right on one of the lips. I would confidently say that the moment when I yanked that cloth strip thingy off and was just positively sure that I took off one of my lips along with the wax and hair was when I realized it is absolutely NOT the same experience when you do this to yourself as it is when the nice little Asian lady does it. Listen y’all when I say I straight up fell/jumped off my chair when I went in for that first swipe on the lips I am not playing. I was so loud that I woke Steve up with the screech/howl sound I made along with the sound of my spasming body hitting the floor. Y’all, I was twitching like I’d been zapped by an electric fence. My husband said I looked like I was about to have a stroke and/or seizure and he thought about calling 911 for his own safety. To be perfectly honest, at one point I almost called 911 on myself for assault & battery on myself. So by now, I’m fully committed to finish this thing even if it kills me and Steve is irritated with hearing my screeches but he’s also mad because I won’t let him do it due to my fear of retaliation over the Stone Cold Stunner incident. So he is supposed to leave the house and run to the store to grab a handful of things that won’t take him forever but it would definitely give me long enough to put my big girl panties on (or take them off and bite down on them like those guys did in the old War movies my dad used to watch) and do the dang thing. Well guess what, y’all... He was only gone for like 10 minutes tops and did not announce himself being home. In fact, he made sure he was extremely quiet in order to sneak up like a dirty little ninja and assess the situation without my knowledge. So lemme just paint a little picture for ya so you can have some insight into my anguish. Here I am: completely naked from the waist down, laying on a towel on my back with my feet up in the air, (basically in the position they put you in when you’re giving birth to a child), in front of a big mirror I have pulled over and propped up against the dresser so I can see exactly what I’m ripping wax off of, cussing and yelling loudly enough that people in California could have heard how HIGHLY displeased I am with this entire wax thing. Now, I’m literally right in the middle of yanking a strip right off my effing starfish when the stupid strip thing you’re supposed to pull the dang wax off with doesn’t pull it all off like it’s supposed to. I’m not sure if it was faulty equipment or an operator error but I am sure that it did not work and it did not feel very effing good in any way, shape, form, or fashion. So at this point I’m HOLLERIN’ “AH ************* ******** THIS ******* POS THING!! WHAT THE ****?!?! WHY THE **** DOES IT DO THIS ********?!? WHAT THE **** IS THE MATTER WITH THIS *********** POS ******* THING?!? MAN RIGHT ON THE ******* ******* **** MAN OUCH!!!!” and a whole bunch of other obscene phrases I cannot recall at the moment but I’m sure they were extremely colorful. Then, the universe and my future ex-husband decided to completely unnecessarily add insult to injury. I’m minding my own business just trying to recover from what felt like an attempt to snatch my starfish, cooch, and my dang soul from my body with molten hot wax direct from the hottest pit in hell and smeared on by yours truly, (who in this situation I would describe as: a completely untrained, sailor mouthed, inexperienced, unprofessional, half-drunk Florist whose only experience in the waxing department comes from being the waxee not the waxer-never both- and taking one of my sister’s eyebrows completely off the day before school pictures when I was in High School almost resulting in my abrupt death..). As I’m recovering and just trying to breath I just so happen to glance in the mirror that I am spread eagle in front of and notice my dearest Steven’s sexy, muscular, long... stupid arm which is attached to his big ole stupid hand which is unmistakably attached to his stupid phone which I hoped to break at that moment. It was peaking out from the very top corner of our now open bedroom door taking a god dang video of this little event. I completely flipped out and chased my wannabe comedian love down the hallway and out of the house while he laughed his unwaxed ass off for days and days. Friends, I’m telling you... do NOT try to wax your cooch and/or starfish at home. This thing is probably the bomb dot com if used by someone that knows wtf they are doing or on someone else if you don't know what you are doing lolololol. It did make me extra, extra smooth though so I give it 5 stars. 5 stars for softness. 5 stars for a conversation piece. 5 stars for date night activities. 5 stars for trauma. and 5 stars for my PTSD.