No wax on, wax off for me

Having undergone a shoulder operation recently and with my one arm in a sling for six weeks, I am unable to perform some of the most basic daily tasks.

Simple things, like replacing a gas bottle or making the bed, now require a completely different skill set which includes using every ready, willing and able part of my anatomy – from my knees to my teeth and everything in between.

On a more personal level, I now have my steak cut for me and prefer to eat simple, soft meals that can be enjoyed eating with a fork only.

The biggest challenges, however, seem to revolve around personal hygiene and grooming.

If there’s one thing I have learnt in the past few weeks, it’s that grooming is not for sissies.

Unable to clip my own toenails, I was convinced to go for a head-to-toe “treat”. I decided the safest option would be to start at my feet and then we could work our way up.

That decision turned out to save my life.

While my feet entered heaven, with angels giving them the most exquisite massage and exfoliating treatment, I had the opportunity to observe what lay ahead.

Across the room was a man lying face down with strips of bandages spread out over his back. The next moment a female weightlifter started ripping them off, literally uprooting every hair.

The way the man arched his back, I knew the pain was excruciating. I couldn’t watch.

Elsewhere, another victim was getting a Covid-19 test, or so I thought. A big blob of what looked like hot syrup was inserted into each nostril.

When it was eventually removed, rather too forcefully for my liking, my first thought was that a baby hedgehog had made a nest in the man’s nose and had to be lured out with the syrup.

The way he whimpered, I knew there was no way I was going to allow that to be done to me.

By the time my feet were done, I lied and said my shoulder was so sore I had to go home. I’m definitely not man enough to have anything waxed.

Danie Toerien.

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