Talking openly about sexuality is not typically my thang. I consider myself a pretty conservative person, choosing to keep my feelings and stories private.
Television can have some pretty bizarre programming in the middle of the night. Often times when working night shift, my patients will fall asleep with their tv on. Sometimes a program will catch my attention. Last week, there was a talk show on I had never seen before and the panelists were discussing waxing.
When I spotted the assignment on our writer’s message board, I knew I had to tell my story.
Every time I hear the word “Brazillian” when referring to waxing, I have to giggle…
It happened over 10 years ago, but I remember it as if it were yesterday.
Keeping things “tidy” down there has become the modern norm. Gone are the days of the ‘fro, if you know what I mean. If you don’t, please refer to any Playboy from the early 80’s. Let’s just say the carpet matched the drapes in the decade of big hair.
Being a mom of young children at the time, I became impatient with the time consuming “tidying” and went all “hard wood floors.” After failed attempts at home waxing, Ted decided he thought I should have a Brazillian. I had no clue what this entailed, but being an adventurous soul, or maybe just a huge sucker, I agreed. He bought me a gift certificate at a local spa and took it upon himself to set up the appointment. Being from the conservative Midwest region, I had never before experienced anything like this.
There were special instructions before the dreaded day even arrived. For “best results” there needed to be ½-1 inch of growth. Ok…after shaving completely for quite some time, allowing that much growth was, for lack of better word, itchy. So, out of the gate, I had the feeling this was not going to be a fun experience.
The day of the appointment arrived, I checked in and was ushered to a luxurious locker room. I was instructed to completely disrobe, and put on the fluffy bath robe provided. I was then taken to a “waiting room” filled with other women in their matching bath robes. I wondered how may were there for the same reason, jealous thinking they probably all had relaxing wonderful days planned, while I was headed for the guillotine.
When my aesthetist was ready, she took me to my room. There was soft music playing, incense burning, and a white table that no matter how “spa” they tried to make it look, looked like an exam table out of a doctor’s office. I was instructed to lay down and she explained the “procedure.”
Now, I have worked in the medical profession for a long time. Naked bodies are nothing to me, but when it was my own, and being completely heterosexual, I was uncomfortable to say the least. The aesthetician was wonderful, explaining she, too, had difficulties at first.
No matter how nice the end result is made to sound, having hair ripped out of any part of the body, let alone a very sensitive region, is far from pleasant. I quickly threw out all past feelings of thinking I had a high pain tolerance.
I kept the best poker face I could.
Next came the tweezing…..yes…tweezing. The only thing worse than having hair ripped out of your nether-regions is having stubborn strays tweezed from said regions. I was truly starting to break out in a cold sweat, hands clasped so tight my knuckles were white.
Thinking I was about finished, the aesthetician then explained the “FULL” Brazillian that had been scheduled. My mouth dropped open. Turns out, this was the only spa in the city to offer “FULL” Brazillians. i thought…”Nice, Ted.” She told me it was surprisingly not as painful as the first part.
I did as I was told, rolling over onto all 4’s, leaning slightly back, waiting for her to finish the waxing. She was right, it wasn’t as painful, but it wouldn’t have mattered because I was completely mortified.
Would I ever do it again? I do not feel the Brazillian is for me. Besides the cost, the growth needed and pain involved are not worth the “smoothness” that lasted all of a few days. And the selling point of having baby-butt smoothness for weeks? I had significant re-growth in less than a week. Oh well, you live and you learn, and I learned I will never again accept a spa gift certificate for anything other than a massage or a facial.