Last night, Brandon and I both barely slept. He wasn't feeling too bad by the time the sun went down, but my little, annoying stomach ache had turned into full-blown, angry cramps. They were so bad at times that I had to moan in pain. Poor Brandon, feeling good or feeling bad, could never have slept through that!
So yes, we were up all night. But finally, we both drifted off to sleep, and we were able to stay in bed until late this morning. I woke up still feeling icky, but in the light of day, the aches in my tummy were certainly subdued.
When I decided I was probably well enough, I also decided it was a perfect day to treat myself to a treatment at the resort spa. So I called and made an appointment for a bikini wax. I'm going to be wearing nothing but a swimming suit for the next week, so I figured I might as well. Plus, the service cost the equivalent of three dollar. Yes, three dollars.
You would think this would have been a warning to me...
I went to the spa around one o'clock and told the man at the desk what I wanted. He called the girl out, and she took me into a relatively clean room, where she told me (with her hands) to lie down on the table. I was pretty sure I had to take my clothes off first, though, so I started to do so. And she went right ahead and helped me.
I don't know if I've mentioned it, but the Indian culture does not incorporate a ton of personal space. It's not that big of a deal, but it can be a little surprising at times. Anyway, after this sweet little Indian lady had helped me out of my underwear, we were all set to go.
Now, let me just say that I do not do this all that often. I have possibly had two or three bikini waxes in my entire life, and two or three times it has hurt like hell! But for some reason, in India, it was worse. Much worse. The good news was, it definitely took my mind off of the Delhi Belly.
After she'd waxed me and ripped me several more times, she indicated that she was done and asked me (in so many words) if it was ok. So, excuse me, please, if I have to get a little graphic now, but I looked down at myself, and, well, no, it absolutely was not ok! First of all, it was uneven - all crooked lines and jagged edges. But that was the least of my worries, because, well, the hair was gone from all the wrong places!
I will spare you any further details. Suffice it to say that this little activity did not go according to plan. The lesson in this, I suppose, is that you get what you pay for. In my instance, I also get a funny story from my trip in India to share.
Oh, and a lot of little red bumps. Don't forget those!
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