I'm pretty sure Kevin Collins is a Democrat. Almost positive Michelle Dubert is a Republican, too. Me, though? I'm a non-partisan, half-assed hack, by all legitimate standards. By this point in the election season, Collins and Dubert and most DP columnists have written at least one and maybe all of their columns around something politically savvy.
They've waxed rhetorical and talked points and gone back and forth on issues and campaigns and debates while I've touched on pants and sleepovers and boys. Well, Kerry Schmerry, Bush Schmoosh. It's time to take their columns a step further, my friends. It's time to wax rhetorical about waxing bush.
Thus far, the Penn-affiliated Annenberg National Election Survey has missed asking voters a question which has no bearing on the issues but which I truly believe will shape the electoral college decision. I ask you what is more painful in the long term -- watching the debates with the on-campus College Democrats and Republicans or suffering through a bikini wax?
Luckily, I've done both, and they intersected last Wednesday in an epic tale of pain and glory. First, some background. I've always been hirsute, a little more Bert than Ernie. I first realized this in fifth grade, when a very mean boy told me I had a caterpillar growing across my head. Since that horrific day, I've made myself an appointment every six weeks or so to voluntarily get hot wax smeared all over my forehead and methodically ripped off. It's a bit masochistic, but hell, pain is beauty. Beauty is pain.
Late in the morning, I realized I was in desperate need of an eyebrow touch-up, and found myself in a room at the Saturn Club that looked oddly familiar. I stared at the curtains, the purple wallpaper and the woman scooping hot wax onto a Popsicle stick. Suddenly, the blocked memories came flooding back. It was here, exactly a year before, that I had suffered through my one and only bikini wax.
It was on that table where I climbed aboard, half-naked save for undies, and let this woman smear sticky, caramelized wax all over my inner thighs. It was here that the woman told me to relax, take in a deep breath and let the numbing spray take effect. She then pulled half my inner thighs off with her little paper strips. Numbing spray, my ass. It was here that I told her after she did the left side not to bother with the right. "I'm done!" I babbled incoherently. Fortunately, she didn't listen and I hobbled out of the Saturn Club, smooth and sexy and sobbing.
How much more pain can one individual take? Since my threshold for physical pain was relatively low, I decided to test my mental agility. The night of my brow wax, I decided to attend the third debate with the College Republicans, after secretly infiltrating the College Democrats to watch the first debate. I went into "stealth Mel mode" and took my place among the politicos and movers and shakers of the Penn campus, ready to report on the comings and goings of those in the know.
Talk about real torture. The wax was a fun outing in comparison.
I went into the first and third debate with the thought that I would learn something about the political process and maybe each candidate's positions. Perhaps an intelligent discussion would follow, making it clear what differentiated the candidates. Instead, the debates were little more than a chance to laugh hysterically at the opposing candidate and vigorously cheer for their own. The Democrats laughed at Bush, the Republicans tittered at Kerry. I grimaced. After 90 minutes with the Dems and 90 minutes with the 'Pub(e)s, I decided to renounce my citizenship, move to Canada and vote for Paul Martin.
Incidentally, I attended the second debate with international students, some from Canada, others from China, Belgium and France. These people were decidedly non-partisan and actually knew what they were talking about. They also came from countries where it's OK for women to have a bit of body hair. Maybe there's a correlation between countries with more evolved thinking about natural parts of the body and knowledge of U.S. politics. I'm not sure.
Regardless, I liked them a lot, and for 90 minutes I listened to them debate the issues and how they would affect the international community. I came out of the room feeling smarter and more knowledgeable. Sadly, I was the only person in the room who has the opportunity to vote.
After I snuck out of the Republican debate viewing, I clutched the free bumper sticker they gave me in my hands. Then I removed the sticky backing and stuck it on my crotch, to amuse my friends at band.
Two words: Viva Bush.
Melody Joy Kramer is a junior English major from Cherry Hill, N.J. Perpendicular Harmony appears on Wednesdays.
