I HATE facial stubble. I don’t care about stubble on guys because I’m not into guys, and I don’t care how a guy looks. But on me, ewwwww.
I’m not the only person who feels this way. When I used to do escorting, I still had facial stubble. It bothered me very much. So in anticipation of meeting a particular client, I went to a professional skin guru and paid big bucks to have my stubble lasered into oblivion. I understand the laser takes a while to have its full effect so I did this a few days ahead of time. Then, the day of the paid-for-date, I shaved my face earlier that day. And right before the date, I shaved again plus I put on make-up to cover up whatever might have survived.
The client was t-girl friendly and t-girl savvy, and he enjoyed the time with me and paid as agreed. Just before he left, I asked him to name three items where there’s room for improvement. He hesitated. “I wasn’t going to say anything, but … you asked.” So, he listed three items. Two of them would require surgery to address, but the third item he mentioned was facial stubble. I was aghast. Golly, the lighting in the room was nice and subdued, and even so the client had noticed … something. Enough to mention. I thanked him for his input and resolved to DO something about this, and quickly.
I was impressively broke at the time, so I couldn’t afford any more lasering sessions, nor electrolysis, nor professional waxing. I decided to buy wax and use it on myself. Good decision, that. Some years later, when I had a nice professional peer meeting with another t-girl escort over dinner, and we discussed business issues, I complimented her on her smooth and perfectly hairless skin as to her face and body, and she thanked me and mentioned that she’d spent about $60,000 on professional treatments to look like that. Wow, that’s a lot of money.
My little pot of facial wax, that I buy at CVS or Wal-Mart, costs maybe $12. I wax every four days or so and nowadays a pot of wax lasts me for about a month. My body hair vanished sooner, so I hardly need to wax that at all … maybe once every two months. I don’t shave either. I still own a razor but I don’t even remember when last I used it.
When I started out, I used to use one pot of wax per session. I’d stand in front of the bathroom mirror and wax, and it hurt so much that I’d do a little dance to detract me from the pain, after each rip.
It hurt so much that out of sheer pain I bit down so hard that I chipped one of my front teeth.
I was NOT supposed to make multiple passes over the same area of skin, but the first pass removed so little facial hair that I violated the rule to at least have the satisfaction of smoothness as a reward for all this pain. My skin protested. The damaged areas bled, turned bright red, then an ominous dark red, and then slowly flaked off over the course of the next week or so. It looked horrible. My idea of caking on thick layers of concealer worked only until the skin under the make-up flaked off somewhere or other, which took at most a couple of hours if I was lucky.
The way hair grows, I read somewhere, is in phases. If I rip it out during the right phase(s) then I succeed in damaging the roots, so that this individual hair strand will grow out next time with less and less enthusiasm until it gets the hint and quits permanently. If I rip out the hair in a phase when it was about to fall out by itself anyway, and the new strand was already growing underneath the surface of the skin, it did not damage the root of that strand. So even if I waxed into oblivion all of my facial hair, I’d have left unaffected the roots of a particular percentage. Next time, if I had good timing, I’d successfully damage some of the roots that I’d missed before, and yet some of these would yet again be in the stage of growth where my efforts had little effect.
After each rip, there was a disgusting-to-me, carpet-like thick layer of fuzz on the paper strip, and re-using a paper was distasteful and impractical, so I always ran out of paper before I ran out of wax.
The bathroom was also a godawful mess afterwards. There was wax on the mirror, on the horizontal area by the mirror and washbasin, on the floor, on the wall, in my hair … ewww. I tried to prevent this by laying down vast amounts of paper towels, but sometimes during all the violent waxing, these got pushed aside, and the wax still got to be pretty much everywhere. I wore lame-looking ski hats to protect my hair but the few strands that fell loose during the violent head movements were often covered in wax, which means they had to be ripped out too … that wax, on any hair, is non-viable to remove.
My hands were always sticky with wax. I soon got smart enough to wear disposable gloves, but in a typical session I’d go through a dozen gloves or more.
The chances of burned skin are high too. Wax keeps it heat for a long time, so overheating it and expecting it to cool down soon is unsafe. I’ve burned myself with too-hot wax and wow does it hurt. That’s easy to do because as the wax pot gets more and more empty, if I don’t adjust the heating time in the microwave, what works well for a full put of wax will overheat half a pot. And erring on the side of safety makes for too-cold wax that looks like it might work but it mostly hurts, and removes very little hair in the process.
In any particular session, the pain was often so much that I didn’t have the willpower to wax my entire face, so at best I’d wax one area per session.
I hated every part of that experience, and it went on for years, but it got steadily better and easier.
So, yesterday, I was in Las Vegas, and because I hadn’t waxed in several days, I asked my girlfriend how my facial hair looked. It was sparse enough, but I could feel a few strands when I stroked my face. She inspected me and announced that yes, there are a few strands but they’re blonde so it’s hard to see them. Here’s a picture of me, yesterday. Maybe you agree?
Anyway, today I’m back home in northern Nevada, and so I waxed those few strands of facial hair away. I no longer have to put down any paper towels or wear any gloves. I heated up the wax pot perfectly, put my hair back in a long ponytail, laid a couple of plastic grocery bags down on the floor, knelt by a full-length mirror, and waxed my entire face including the front of my neck. Zero skin damage. Zero mess, though maybe one or two thin strands of hair got wax on them. I could re-use each sheet several times so by now I have a stash of extra sheets. I used very little wax so there’s more than enough left for one more session even though I’ve used that pot of wax many times already. All in all, it was all quick, efficient and painless.
Indeed, by now the surviving strands of hair are few and far between. Here’s a paper strip from today’s session. I’m sorry if this picture icks you out like it does me, but a picture is worth a thousand words.
I am currently mentoring a wonderful t-girl who’s just starting out, and her facial hair is a major source of frustration for her, and much of her make-up agenda is focused on obscuring the stubble that she hates so much, even after diligently shaving. I wax her face as often as she wants, but it’s not often.
Even so, “get it over with” as to waxing facial hair is a principle I’d suggest for every t-girl who is just starting out. For those who are not yet “out” socially, waxing facial hair is also a not-highly-visible way of making significant progress.