Waxing

By ODELIA LALEHZARIAN

As a Persian girl, I can grow a pretty mean mustache. If unibrows were in, I would be the Kendall Jenner of modelling mine. But, from a young age, my mother taught me body hair was ugly, unfeminine, and unhygienic. At 10 years old, I began waxing my entire body. By 11, I went to get my eyebrows and full face threaded every three weeks. By 13, I started laser hair removal. 

I vividly remember my first time getting my legs waxed. I walked into the Persian salon where a nice lady smelling strongly of cheap perfume greeted me in Farsi. I laid down on the crinkly paper sheet left on the long chair, just like a doctor’s office. I heard a clicking sound and noticed she turned on the burner the wax sits on. She powdered my legs so the wax would stick better to my hairs. 

She dipped the popsicle stick into the hot wax and smeared it on my legs, the heat making me flinch. She could tell it was my first time getting waxed, but that didn’t seem to stop her from placing the strip down and yanking it as hard as she could, no warning given.


Odelia Lalehzarian is a senior studying Political Philosophy and Communications & Rhetorical Studies on the Pre-Law Track. Outside of her studies, she is involved with several Jewish organizations as well as cooking and swimming.