Below the Belt Belongs to Turkey!

The first time I met Ulak he stood in line at a coffee shop along the Pacific Coast Highway. I stood behind him, stared at the tufts of black and gray hair sticking out from the back of his neck. My God, what a hairy man, I thought. Thank God he's not shirtless.

It was only a matter of time - months I think - before I saw a shirtless Ulak at the beach, laying on his stomach as his mother sat in a folding chair under a voluminous umbrella. A cooler nestled in the sand between them, open to reveal a plethora of exotic Turkish delights. I waved hello, kept walking, dragging my boys and their beach toys behind me, was terrified if I set camp beside Ulak he might ask me to rub lotion on his back...hair.

I called Ulak Friday night, asked him Please Please Please let me wax your back. It'll be fun! I'll bring snacks! I'll tell you funny stories!

"Birdie. Turkish men do not wax backs. This is American silliness. Women do not mind back hair." He breathed heavy into the telephone, sounded like he was trying to convince himself as much as me.

"Now, Ulak. Do it for me. For science! For Avon! Come on! I need a good subject and you're the hairiest person I know. It won't hurt a bit. Plus all those cute Middle Eastern girls you like will think you're super HOT. Come on! It's almost beach season." I used my whiny voice, the one that makes Ulak promise anything - anything! - to shut me up. It worked. But, there was one small hitch.

"Birdie. Ok. I will let you remove the hairs. But we can not do this at my home. My mother will not understand. We can do it at your home."

I paused for a moment, wondered how to manage a delicate hot wax treatment with pot-bellied pig, dog, iguanas, kids, guinea pig underfoot. All problems, but none as caustic as Ulak's mother. Oh, what the heck. "Ok. Deal!"

The next day I took a good look around my house, decided the master bedroom was the best location for such a procedure, and spread a clean sheet on top of my bed. I corralled 8 and 10 and pointed to the bed.

"Guys, Ulak is coming over. I'm going to spread some sticky Avon stuff on his back and rip out his hair. You can watch, but you have to stay out of my way. Ok?" The boys looked at each other, looked at me, looked at the bed. 8 ran out the door, chased after the dog, didn't seem to care one way or another what strange things I might be doing with my Turkish friend in the bedroom, but 10 squished up his eyes in the way that meant he was processing information.

"So, Mom? Why are you doing this?"

Why, indeed.

I even baked a cake for the occasion! I let it cool on the counter as I called Ulak once more, begged him to let me wax him at his house. "Come on, Ulak. Do you really want 8 and 10 watching this?" He stood firm, though, only grunted once. "Oh, and Ulak! One more thing! I read the instructions and it says that the hair must be between one-quarter inch and one-half inch long. I think we may have a little, uh, problem, as I suspect your back hair may be slightly longer than a half-inch. We may have to do a little pre-wax trim." It was at least two inches long, maybe three, I remembered, but didn't want to embarrass Ulak any more than I was already embarrassing him.

"Birdie. I will measure my hairs. Goodbye." He slammed down the receiver.

So Ulak came over, we ate fudge cake with sploots of good homemade whipped cream, and I blended a pitcher of margaritas and poured them into salt-rimmed glasses. The cake was luscious, almost gingerbread-like with a moist texture and a rich cocoa color. It was during Ulak's third margarita that he made this announcement:

"Birdie! I have measured the back hair and you were right. They were too long. So I did a little trim myself. In the mirror. I don't think I did a bad job." Ulak pulled up his shirt and turned around at the table. 8 and 10 leaned in close to get a good look. His back was slightly less hairy, and if you could call a weed-whacked back an improvement, well, this was a bit better. Better for waxing, anyway. I shot back the last of my second margarita and stood up. "I think we need another pitcher, Ulak. You know, to get through the next phase here."

I dragged two kitchen chairs to the bedroom and instructed 8 and 10 to stay seated on those chairs for the entire project. I pointed to the bed and told Ulak to remove his shirt and lay, face down, so I could take a couple of "before" shots.

"Birdie. Who is going to see these photographs, please?" Ulak pulled his t-shirt over his head, and climbed onto the bed.

"Um. Just a few people I know who are interested in how these Avon products work." I took the pictures, then ran back to the kitchen to remove the heated wax from the microwave oven. The instructions on the Avon Skin So Soft Hair Removal Microwave Wax kit are easy to follow. Simply pop the uncovered container of wax in the microwave and nuke for a minute. Stir, the nuke in thirty-second increments until the wax is honey-clear and easy to mix. Check.

Here are the photos of Ulak's post-self-trim-pre-wax hair back. Like I warned you, it ain't a pretty sight:


Now THAT is a lotta weed-whacked hair.


as if you needed another view...

I laid the instruments of torture on the bed next to Ulak. Twenty fabric hair-removal strips, the hot wax, a spatula for application, and the camera. I noticed how his back hair fell straight below his pants, probably to a full-haired butt, so I knelt over him, hands on my hips, and pondered out loud. "Geeze. Your hair goes so low. What the heck am I going to do? I don't want to get wax on your pants. Maybe you should just take them off..." but before I had a chance to finish my thoughts, Ulak interrupted me.

"No! Below the belt belongs to Turkey!"

The wax spread easily on Ulak's back. I made sure to wipe the spatula in the direction of hair growth. I pressed a fabric swatch in the direction of growth, rubbed it vigorously as directed, and with a hearty "1, 2, 3!" I yanked it off in the proper direction. Ulak's eyes watered, but he didn't yelp. He reached his arm down to the floor, grabbed his margarita glass, and tipped the remnants of his fifth drink down his throat. I stared at the fabric in my hands, the sheer amount of long back hair, and almost tossed my cookies all over my poor subject, all over my bed.


First strip applied to Ulak's back


Results of first strip removal

"Birdie. Does a person need a beautician's license to perform this kind of operation?" Ulak looked hopeful that I might decide I've done enough, but I soldiered on.

"Um, I think my Avon representative status allows me to wax back hair of Turkish friends, Ulak."

I forgot 8 and 10 were watching, they sat silent as statues, eyes riveted to the wax and fabric and the heavy-ho of the mothership muscling hair off her swarthy friend. It only a took a half-hour total, counting margarita breaks, and moments of sheer panic as a strip would stick and not pull. Ulak's back looked sleeker but grew angry and red from irritation.


Mmmmmmmargarita and wax!


Poor Ulak is getting red. But smooth!

After the last hair was yanked, I applied the Skin So Sooth Soothing After Wax Oil, rubbed it into Ulak's back, but the sting and redness remained. I worried that his back might stay that way, lobster-like and sticky, but the next morning found me driving by Ulak's to deliver the remainder of the cake for his mom to enjoy, and as I pulled into his driveway, I saw Ulak pruning his bushes, parading around in blue-jean cutoff shorts, flip-flops, and no shirt. The redness faded, his olive complexion started filling in, and he waved and flexed, a vision of Turkish Macho in his mind.


Ick. What I was left with when it was all said and done...

All in all, the Avon Skin So Soft Hair Removal Microwave Wax Kit was a rousing success! However, interested parties should be advised that it took the entire box of wax and fabric strips to remove one Turk's back hair.