A beautiful disaster

There is one thing that I will willingly admit about myself. I am high maintenance. I like to look my best, even if I'm just running up to the grocery store under cover of night. It's kind of a sickness, I think.

This search for perfection (or at least not letting myself go to the point that people are storming our house with burning torches looking for the ogre that lives here) comes at a price, however. And that would be the cost of my sanity.

A few years ago, I got tired of paying someone to wax my eyebrows and my lip so I decided to try those cute little Sally Hansen cold wax strips. Big mistake. I ended up ripping off skin so therefore I had scabs that looked like Hitler's mustache for weeks. There's one thing about fucking up a waxing job - it's not like you can even pretend that you don't have a mustache that rivals Poncho Villa's when you end up with two raw patches on your upper lip.

Then there was the ugly Aveeno lotion incident, where I found out that apparently I have a mild soy allergy. I ended up with a rash all over me for days after that one.

Bikini waxing - like the time my waxer globbed wax all over the place and I ended up having to literally cut my panties off my body because they were stuck. Never a good situation, especially when you have to piss like a racehorse.

My lovely Solar Nails bit the dust about a month ago. I went into my usual chop shop for a fill and had a new technician. Apparently New Technician gets off on making women cry, because she ended up burning three of my fingers with the drill and as I sat there with tears streaming down my face and shaking with pain, she kept repeating "you so sensitive" like a parrot. I ended up having the tips taken off and now I'm in the process of letting the damaged nails grow out. I've had fake nails off and on for years and never had an infection or had anyone burn me, and now I see a nail salon and break out in hives. I have nightmares about Dremels and little freckled Asian women hissing "you so sensitive" at me.

Last week I went to get my eyebrows waxed and got burned. A nice inch-long scar on my upper eyelid. I was so traumatized that I skipped the rest of the waxing and refused to rebook another appointment. At this point, I don't know what the hell I'm going to do because if I try to tweeze them all the time I will have to quit my job and stay poised in our bathroom with my Tweezerman on full alert.

I think as of last night, I have officially reached the brink of insanity. You see, I won a free teeth whitening treatment from dear Dr. Greg at a charity auction a few months ago. So I started it last week - haven't been able to get more than 2 - 3 hours at a time without the sensitivity getting too bad - and have to go back tomorrow for a reevaluation. The problem? I burned my mouth yesterday trying to wolf down a bacon and onion pizza from Bellacino's and the roof of my mouth was already raw when I put the bleaching trays in. I could almost feel my palate sizzle with the bleaching agent, and I think at one point I yawned and a puff of smoke came out. Today, my mouth feels like a piece of raw hamburger and I definitely won't be bleaching my teeth tonight.

So where does the madness end? When I end up chopping off a toe trying to give myself a pedicure? I have no idea.