Apologies to anyone who might find this post as way too much information, to know about Liz, ever.
Before my vacation to California two weeks ago (what? you didn't know that I went to California? well, now you do) I decided that for my beach time, I was going to get a Brazilian wax. For those who don't know what a Brazilian wax is...it is when you remove all of your pubic hair. Unlike a bikini wax, where in, you only remove the hair you would see wearing bikini bottoms. Justifiably, you might ask yourself, why? Why Brazilian? Well....I counter... why not? My thinking was, why not go for broke, if I am going to have someone down there, can't we just clean up shop and call it a day?
Back when I was in hair school, I took a Aesthetics course. And during this course I had everything waxed that has ever been waxed before: eyebrows, mustache, legs, armpits, bikini, etc. etc. We also watched a very graphic and very educational video on the Brazilian wax, but never did we actually do a Brazilian. I remembered, as I was thinking about getting a Brazilian, that my bikini wax, all those years ago, didn't hurt. So I was fully confident that a Brazilian wouldn't be all that different. Oh Boy! was I ever wrong.
It was the day before I left for California. I had put off getting the waxing done until the very last minute. Not on purpose but simply out of necessity to everything else I was trying to get done before I left. I was super busy at work and knew I wouldn't be able to leave early, so I had to schedule the appointment for my lunch hour. I wasn't sure, but had to believe that something like that should only last an hour. I mean do you really want someone ripping your hairs, out of anywhere, let alone your privates, for more than an hour?
I was late getting there and flustered about it. Then they had me wait and wait and wait. I waited in that stupid room for almost thirty minutes. Generally, I am very patient, but I was on a time crunch and I admittedly shot them a few, are you serious, with this waiting, looks. Finally the girl came to get me and I inwardly sighed that she looked clean and normal. If I am going to have anyone spend anytime with that part of my body, they better, for sure, look clean, I mean right.
Because of the time situation, I didn't think about how uncomfortable it was to disrobe and lay on a table, completely naked from the waist down, except a small white wash cloth. My waxer knocked on the door gingerly and for the life me I can't remember her name. Rest assured it was completely forgettable, which is a pity, because she was awfully sweet.
She came in and asked "So, is this your first Brazilian?"
"Yes..but I have had a bikini wax before." I gulped and hesitated before asking my question, because I feared the answer. "Is this your first Brazilian?" I asked as conversationally as I could manage.
"No, I average at least one a day."
And I audibly sighed in relief.
"Ok, are you ready she asks?" as she rubs the strip she has placed on my bikini line area. I nod and feel absolutely confident in my readiness.
She pulls the flesh taunt and rips.
"Sweet, Fancy...*(&*&!, *&*%^%!!!"
"Just a little sting." she says with a smile that I want to knock off her face. Just a little sting, is an understatement. Each time she pulls the skin and says something reassuring and I brace myself for the coming pain, I can't help thinking...why? why? Some strips are more painful than others and I have constant plea of stop, for the love of...STOP!. Yet in the back of my mind I tell myself, no one has died from getting a Brazilian, you can do this. Though, that toughness does me no good as the next teeth chattering strip is ripped from my tender flesh and I let out a loud curse.
I try to make small talk to distract myself from crying or peeing, because for some reason, those two sensations come to forefront. But eventually I just lie there and soak up the overwhelming pain in all of its glory. Because I have no one to blame but myself and Tyra Banks.
"Do you bruise easily?" My waxer asks while applying the soothing after lotion, that also helps remove residual wax.
"Yeah" I say looking down at my legs that are speckled with random bruises from running into stationary things, "I bruise easily."
"Hmmm..yeah, it looks like you do."
And I manage a peek and see a nice purple bruise forming right on my bikini line. Great! not only does it feel like I was punched in the crotch, now it literally looks like I have been.
"Ok, I will step out while you get dressed and then I will take you to pay."
She leaves and I gingerly reapply my clothes, making sure not to disrupt the tenderness. I also can't help wondering why anyone would want to pay for this. I feel like society should have a running tab, for all Brazilian wax jobs for me an the entire female population, for here until the world cease's. I mean it is the least they could do for us.
As I get in my car and realize that it hurts a bit to sit down, I can't help but think.....all in all, I would give it another go. And that people is the most painful part of it all.