Never Get Your Legs Waxed in South America

I stop by a salon in Lima, Peru to inquire how much a chin wax would be and somehow end up with a leg wax, an armpit wax, an acne facial, and a massage. Note that I did not end up getting the chin wax. Things escalated and I just went with it.

I haven’t been able to find a good bathroom light in Peru or Ecuador, I’m almost positive Darien’s not the only one growing a beard. I ask how much the wax will be and she tells me 80 soles ($25) then picks at my pimples. I say no, not a facial, just a wax. She doesn’t understand. I then show her my leg and armpit hair and ask how much that would be. She says yeah, yeah, come with me. With my acne and untouched body hair, I was a dream salon client.

I follow her to a massage room and she shines a light on my face. After a wash, she starts extracting my pimples. I then realize I’m in the middle of an acne facial. To be fair, she did ask me a few times “esta bien?” and I said yes.

She is an older Venezuelan lady, about my mother’s age. Her country is in a crisis, so she was forced to relocate to Peru. Both of her children are in the states. She lives alone in Lima. She asks me about my relationship, my travels, tells me I look like a model. I love her. Every time I jumped from the pain, she would rub my shoulders and say “ahh mi niña.” My acne has improved a lot and yet she was acting like it was the worse case she has ever seen. Great confidence boost. She prescribes me weekly facials (HA), medicated facial wash (chemicals), and antibiotics (poison).

A coworker joins us in the room and she instructs me to take off my shoes. I immediately realize this is not going to be good. Our Airbnb’s floor is secretly disgusting. The floor doesn’t look dirty but somehow Darien and I have black feet. Like crusty black feet. So I take my shoes off and reveal my crusty black feet to these poor women. I apologize profusely saying I need to get new shoes. The other woman dismisses herself and comes back with towels and a bucket of water. She starts washing my feet. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry from embarrassment. The feet washing is finally over and she starts massaging my feet and legs. I think to myself, wait am I paying for a massage as well…? She turns the lights off, plays soothing music. I come to the conclusion that money is no object. This feels too good to make her stop.

Next, wax lady #1 enters the room. It’s now officially a circus, four of us in a small room. She takes one look at my armpits and has the masseuse get her a pair of scissors. She trims then waxes them quickly. She talked me through the process then applied pressure immediately after. The pain wasn’t terrible. She then politely suggests I should get hormone tests done because of my excess of hair. I wanted to laugh out loud. Look, if you went almost 3 months without a razor, you’d look like a werewolf as well. I’M NOT EVEN THAT HAIRY. (lol)

Anyways, wax lady #2 enters the room to do my legs. I now start to wonder how the hell I’m going to tip all these people. It took (what felt like) an hour to wax HALF my legs. I didn’t do the whole leg because who really cares about the top half?

Wax lady #2 had a terrible cold. She wiped her nose with a snot rag after every strip. The wax was inside of a kitchen pot placed in between my legs. She used a wooden spatula to lather on the hot wax. She barely blew on the hot wax before placing it on my legs. I quietly panicked. Could wax blister your legs? If so, my legs would be a giant blister the following morning. I yelled “caliente! Muy caliente!” She blew on the wax for a second then returned back to burning my legs.

The Venezuelan lady comes in and starts an impromptu on-the-job training session. I was the chosen wax model of the day. Let me tell you, when someone pulls wax off and doesn’t know what they are doing, it is excruciating pain. She slowly pulls off the wax and I scream. PLEASE STOP HER. Wax lady #2 takes over again and verbally instructs her the rest of the time. I promised myself this would be my last leg wax.

All of the ladies tell me how beautiful I am now that the hair is gone. This almost made me regret my decision. I wish I was confident enough with my Spanish to give a motivational feminist speech in that moment. We are beautiful with hair and without hair! I think armpit hair is lovely and sexy. I’m not sure when hair became ugly on women, it’s unfair in my opinion. I sort of forced myself to not shave to see what it’d be like. Once my hair got so long, it felt like a point of no return. Like no razor could take on that challenge. That’s maybe why I spontaneously waxed it off. Or maybe it was the societal pressure of being in a nice city and fitting in. Maybe a birthday present to myself. Or just getting sick of being so goddamn hairy.

I ask about getting my eyebrows and chin waxed, the original reason for my visit. The Venezuelan lady responds with, “oh no you can’t get your face waxed after a facial.” Perfect.

Two hours later, I’m finally at the check out. You’ll never guess how much I paid for an armpit wax (usually $20ish in Chicago), a leg wax ($40?), a massage ($50?), and an acne facial ($80?).

I spent $45 (the massage was free). People, THIS is why you should travel to Latin America. You don’t always get exactly what you want, but at least it’s cheap… and makes for a good story!

Thanks for listening and laughing with me. Besos! xoxo