Stripped

So I got waxed the other day, and as always, the Opera singer in me emerged. I screamed for dear life, because really, honestly speaking, I was hanging on to my dear life.

My friend has said numerous times that if I do it consistently and often it’ll get less painful, but at this point after a few visits, I think it’s fair for me to call her a liar. I mean I have kept to my end of the bargain, going often enough. Her theory should still apply. No?

On the day of my appointments, I unfailingly stand in front of the mirror, do the superman stance and tell myself, you’ve got this Mel.

Upon arrival, I smile awkwardly at my wax lady and she laughs. She knows the drill. So she falls in line and gingers me. You can do it Michelle! I ball up my fists in preparation to buffer the shock of the pain. Every single strip thats ripped sends shivers down my body, and I break into cold sweats.

I know, I am being dramatic but its my story to tell, so I am allowed.

Once all is stripped away, and the dancing stars fade & the buzzing subsides, I put my hand on the area that endured the ‘torture’, and oh my….baby’s butt smooth. Pain averted. Completely forgotten. I am a brand new woman.

It’s the rainbow after the rain. Until of course the next appointment and I scream bloody murder.

My point?

Life is rough, but nuzzled in the belly and creases of life’s hard ridges are sweet moments that make your heart smile. Please don’t think me crazy, but sometimes I literally feel like my heart physically stretches into a smile and it feels like if I burst, it’ll be an explosion of sparklers everywhere.

As a counsellor I have heard one too many times, “life is a bitch”. A bitch that claws, growls and bites. These words always come from a place of justified pain, the consequence of being dealt an unfair hand in life. But I am not one to sit at the surface of things (not anymore). So we dig deeper, and deeper still and collectively come to the conclusion that revelling in pain only brings more pain.

Have you noticed that beautiful things often come from complex situations? Gold is pressed in fire. Roses bloom from dirt. Jesus on the cross. A slight shift in perspective and it’s like christmas in July, being hand delivered a bouquet of roses or a new Bugatti. 

As you adoringly caress the roses, there may be a few ouches from being pricked by unruly thorns, but it doesn’t take away from you enjoying its fragrant beauty. In the same way, while driving your new Bugatti, there may be a few bumps on the road from  nuisance potholes, and things may scatter as a result, but turbulence doesn’t take away from the lushness of the seat cushioning the butt plastered on it.

You wouldn’t throw the flowers away nor would you the Bugatti. Against my better judgement, I also wouldn’t throw my wax lady away.

Taste and see that the Lord is good! Blessed is the one who takes refuge in him |Psalm 34:8|

Unfailingly, I do my superman stance in preparation for something as trivial as a wax.

So for life…

Unfailingly, I nose dive into God’s word

Unfailingly, I fall to my knees

Unfailingly, I lift up my hands

All in honour of the one who knows all my imperfections and loves me the same.

All in adoration for the one who knows the end from the beginning and cushions me from life’s hard blows.

All in surrender to the one who is my fortress, ever present help and strong tower.

Hmmm okay so maybe the waxing bit didn’t really have anything to do with anything and I really just wanted to share my pain 😣.

Happy Monyay!

💋💋

Xoxo

 

image: @ pinterest

4 Replies to “Stripped”

  1. Lol! It has everything to do with waxing, Michelle!

    I’m dramatic when it comes to bearing the pain of waxing but I’d never seen it this way so thanks for the connection.

    Blessings xx

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s