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I’ve been waxed once, and it was just a bit of light grooming. And I wanted to beat up the woman who performed what I considered to be a SURGICAL PROCEDURE.
It was only after she worked her magic and I was BLEEDING that she said, “You should really do this when the hair is shorter, or trim first.”
Trim first? I thought that was HER job, which made me blush even more as I could not believe I was paying another person to style my Down There Hair. It felt like hiring someone to peel my skin after a sunburn. Or pop a boil. I felt embarrassed for her.
And murderous towards her, who inflicted such pain on my person.
I bled. BLED.
If you’re supposed to trim first – if the hair should be at a certain length to minimize the pain – they should have told me first. God.
Now, my understanding about Brazilian waxes, and it’s probably already been stated, is that it’s not just the prepubescent wax. It’s not just a bare vagina. You’re a$$ hair goes too.
I say again, your a$$ hair goes too.
I’d consider the nubile teenager look, even though I’m horrified at the idea of a youthful blossom of a vagina being surrounded by a body being prematurely ravaged by gravity. That’s leading myself up to become a bad rap song: “Just roll her in dough and aim for the wet spot.”
Little girl vagina / Maturing woman’s body. I think I would stare at myself in a mirror and become very confused and possibly I might begin to cry for my mommy.
But if a sexual partner I really cared about really, really, really desired it, I’d consider it.
But my a$$ hair? Not if it was my one true love’s most secret heart’s desire! Not for all the orgies in Rome! Not for a chance to make out with Gerard Butler! Not if got my parents’ souls out of purgatory! Not for world peace!
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