Wax on. Wax off?

So here’s the thing. I love sleep. When I was young, I was an insomniac. I couldn’t sleep for more than four hours a night for a very, very, long time. I watched the infomercials for spray-on hair more times than I’m ready to admit just to have company at 2 a.m.

I’m not sure what happened to change my insomnia, but midway through high school, I started sleeping like the dead. It’s not that I sleep until noon or anything, but I could take a four hour nap in the afternoon if you give me a good book and a fan, no problem.

Anyway, off topic. But, now you’ll have a little background about how I got in the following fix.

A few weeks ago, we finally got the boys to bed around 8:45, which meant after I showered and unloaded the dishwasher and brushed my teeth and made our bed and, and, and ―  it would be at least 9:15 if I put on my cape and moved fast.

Here’s the other thing. And I can’t believe I’m putting this in writing. I have a moustache.

I really do. I think anyway. I never let it get to that point. At least not since 5^th grade when one of my guy friends said, “Hey, you have a moustache.” Ever since then, I’ve waxed. I’ve waxed religiously. And normally, I’ve waxed professionally.

But then I became a mother.

And realized I made it to the salon, on average, about once every eight months.

So the other night, I realized it was way past my normal time for waxing and it was time to bite the bullet and just do it at home. But I was so tired, so I was annoyed as I waited for the wax to heat up in the microwave and was calculating I could still be in bed by 9:45 if …

So I did an extra fast wax. I didn’t mess around with half-heating the wax and getting the temperature just right. I fried that wax. I decided I wouldn’t hesitate at all about ripping the paper off ― I would just do it. And I didn’t put moisturizer on afterward.

See what a problem being an insomniac has caused in my life years later?

 I need to go to waxing safety school.

Anyway, in the middle of the night, I woke up. My face was burning hot. I couldn’t sleep it burned so bad.

I groggily walked upstairs, looked for an ice cube I could rub on my face, found a teether in the shape of a ducky, put it on my lip, and walked back downstairs. I did not want to look in the mirror. And that’s how the night went. I couldn’t sleep. My face burned. I walked upstairs, grabbed the next teether, and put it on my face. When I woke up the next morning, it looked like a baby safari had died at my bedside there were so many teethers littering the carpet.

Finally, around 6:30, I crawled out of bed and on my way to the bathroom, passed John in the hallway.

“What happened to your FACE?” he asked.

Oh great. Oh great oh great oh great, I thought.

I stood in front of the mirror and slowly opened one eye.

Ghasp!!!! I’d ripped half of my face off!

Okay truly, almost all of my face was there, but it had never been more evident that I was a person trying to remove a moustache, because right there was a red strip across my upper lip – skin that used to be there now burnt to a crisp and ripped off!

Fabulous. Just fabulous.

It took a lot of concealer that didn’t really do the trick, and a week's worth of moisturizer before that flaming red strip across my lip started to go away. Meanwhile, I met approximately 324 people in grocery stores, the mall, work, on walks, etc. that must have looked at me as a walking billboard for how not to wax at home.

Sigh. I should find a cure for my love of sleep.

That’s all for today. Thank God.

Until tomorrow …