I'd like to buy an "OW" please.
Due to the graphic nature of this post, viewer discretion is advised.
I may be crossing the blogging line here. What I am about to divulge is not for the overtly shy or prude person.
This is a story about The Brazilian Wax.
You see, I've only had two brazilian waxes (the latter performed this past weekend) and I think that's a good number to stop at. The first one, done by an actual Brazilian lady in San Francisco, is why I opted for BW #2. She was gentle, kind, almost motherly. Her waxing room was filled with warm light and soothing music. She engaged me in interesting conversation about the origin of the BW and how, after experiencing the many post-BW benefits, I'll become a BW regular. I felt very positive leaving her salon.
Then I came to Texas.
For a while now I've been thinking it would be cool to revisit the BW world again. So, I made my appointment and sealed my fate. Enter my aesthetician: young, almost-anorexic brunette with a forced smile and not-too-interested eyes. Small talk was not her forte. As she very professionally told me to undress from the waist down, my dread started to build. Why do I feel like I'm about to get my annual pap smear from some Nazi nurse technician? C'mon! Snap out of it! But my feeling of dread was there for a reason.
I position myself on the table. Feeling the warm wax against my skin, I steady my breathing and tighten my stomach against the anticipated moment of discomfort. There was a loud sshhh-rripp! and my body jerked off the table. Holy.Mother.Of.GOD. Beads of sweat started to form on my forehead. Before I could recover another sshhh-rripp! filled the room, followed by two more sshhh-rripp! sshhh-rripp! Ignoring the "This area is a Quiet Zone" sign on the wall in the hallway, I belt out an "OOOOWWWWWWUUUUUUUCCCCHHHHHHH!!!!!"
This woman was no Brazilian lady from San Francisco with the gentle touch who worked in very small sections. I was dealing with a "let's remove your womanhood with wax and a cotton strip" monster.
She tells me to breathe. Wha-?? All I see are tiny white lights in front of my eyes. I force a deep, long inhale and the pain somewhat subsides. She tells me we're almost done. I tell her to give me a second so I can wipe the puddle of sweat off my forehead. Both hands drop to the sides of the table. I grip on to the metal and tell her to finish. A few small swipes later she tells me she's done. With the front.
WHHAAATTTT???
She then proceeds to tell me to flip over on all fours, place my chest against the table and stick my butt in the air.
(Did your jaw just drop because mine sure did)
I have NEVER in all 28 years of my life felt like a bigger WHORE than I did at this very moment. I'm sorry, Ms. Aesthetician, but I didn't know we'd be taping Deepi Does Dallas during my waxing session. Thank God I'm brown otherwise my face would have been redder than Rudolph's nose. Though this position only lasted a couple of minutes, I was already scarred for life. And to make matters even MORE uncomfortable, she asked me to "go ahead and check to see if I like it." Seriously. As if I'm not mortified enough, now you want me to examine myself in front of you???? Lady, you're on some serious day spa crack.
So to lighten the moment and kill my embarassment, I try dropping a few funny little comments. I now felt very intimate with (and somewhat violated by) this person and damn it, I needed some humor NOW. She wouldn't have it. I got a couple of sympathy half-giggles and that was it. Bedside manner of an icicle, I tell ya.
I don't think I'll be venturing down the BW path for a very long time. However, if I decide to subject myself to such torture again, I will either have to fly back to S.F. or find a brand new aesthetician every, single time. I hope my embarassment has shed some light on this topic.
I will never speak of this again.
I may be crossing the blogging line here. What I am about to divulge is not for the overtly shy or prude person.
This is a story about The Brazilian Wax.
You see, I've only had two brazilian waxes (the latter performed this past weekend) and I think that's a good number to stop at. The first one, done by an actual Brazilian lady in San Francisco, is why I opted for BW #2. She was gentle, kind, almost motherly. Her waxing room was filled with warm light and soothing music. She engaged me in interesting conversation about the origin of the BW and how, after experiencing the many post-BW benefits, I'll become a BW regular. I felt very positive leaving her salon.
Then I came to Texas.
For a while now I've been thinking it would be cool to revisit the BW world again. So, I made my appointment and sealed my fate. Enter my aesthetician: young, almost-anorexic brunette with a forced smile and not-too-interested eyes. Small talk was not her forte. As she very professionally told me to undress from the waist down, my dread started to build. Why do I feel like I'm about to get my annual pap smear from some Nazi nurse technician? C'mon! Snap out of it! But my feeling of dread was there for a reason.
I position myself on the table. Feeling the warm wax against my skin, I steady my breathing and tighten my stomach against the anticipated moment of discomfort. There was a loud sshhh-rripp! and my body jerked off the table. Holy.Mother.Of.GOD. Beads of sweat started to form on my forehead. Before I could recover another sshhh-rripp! filled the room, followed by two more sshhh-rripp! sshhh-rripp! Ignoring the "This area is a Quiet Zone" sign on the wall in the hallway, I belt out an "OOOOWWWWWWUUUUUUUCCCCHHHHHHH!!!!!"
This woman was no Brazilian lady from San Francisco with the gentle touch who worked in very small sections. I was dealing with a "let's remove your womanhood with wax and a cotton strip" monster.
She tells me to breathe. Wha-?? All I see are tiny white lights in front of my eyes. I force a deep, long inhale and the pain somewhat subsides. She tells me we're almost done. I tell her to give me a second so I can wipe the puddle of sweat off my forehead. Both hands drop to the sides of the table. I grip on to the metal and tell her to finish. A few small swipes later she tells me she's done. With the front.
WHHAAATTTT???
She then proceeds to tell me to flip over on all fours, place my chest against the table and stick my butt in the air.
(Did your jaw just drop because mine sure did)
I have NEVER in all 28 years of my life felt like a bigger WHORE than I did at this very moment. I'm sorry, Ms. Aesthetician, but I didn't know we'd be taping Deepi Does Dallas during my waxing session. Thank God I'm brown otherwise my face would have been redder than Rudolph's nose. Though this position only lasted a couple of minutes, I was already scarred for life. And to make matters even MORE uncomfortable, she asked me to "go ahead and check to see if I like it." Seriously. As if I'm not mortified enough, now you want me to examine myself in front of you???? Lady, you're on some serious day spa crack.
So to lighten the moment and kill my embarassment, I try dropping a few funny little comments. I now felt very intimate with (and somewhat violated by) this person and damn it, I needed some humor NOW. She wouldn't have it. I got a couple of sympathy half-giggles and that was it. Bedside manner of an icicle, I tell ya.
I don't think I'll be venturing down the BW path for a very long time. However, if I decide to subject myself to such torture again, I will either have to fly back to S.F. or find a brand new aesthetician every, single time. I hope my embarassment has shed some light on this topic.
I will never speak of this again.
posted by DP at 2:24 PM
11 Comments:
After reading this, I realize I left 2 things off my Thanksgiving "thankful" list last November: The Sally Hanson hair removal system and my trusty Walgreen's razor. Oh holy SHIT!
You're the SECOND person to mention the all-fours thing (ironically, the other girl had her experience in SF) and I gotta tell ya, I'm not rushing to have this done. Put some frozen peas on your hoo-ha and take a few days off. Damnnnnnnn, Geeeena.
I nearly peed myself, RBrown! "Put some frozen peas on your hoo-ha"?? HOLY SHIT!! Now THAT'S humor people!
Oh. My. God. I am laughing my ass off.
The aesthetician makes all the difference. I had the most amazing waxer in LA. Ventured down the brazilian path once. Not so bad at all. (Though i have never heard of this all-fours business!)
Went for a less, um, expansive waxing when i moved to florida - HORRIFIC. Never. Again. Not without a million recommendations first.
I have, however, just discovered an excellent way to get an almost-Brazilian - for free: have surgery that involves a couple of incisions, um, down there. Get an IV to puts you into a glorious anesthesia-induced sleep. Wake up to find just about everything gone. Spectacular.
That's awesome, Pam. I'm so having surgery down there for no reason. What a post-operation perk!
Forget what I said on my blog about the reason men don't write blogs is because we actually speak less. It's because of this story. We're hiding from THIS story. It's good to be a man, holy shit!
i think every man, every day should be reminded how good they have it. yes, it is good to be a man and i hate you all! (unless you're the combination of stunning good looks and and sense of humor. in which case, lets make out.)
I hardly know ye, DP, but getting a Brazilian in Texas? Isn't that sort of like getting your teeth done in London? or a colonscopy in Thailand? Like the old real estate saying goes, it's all about "location, location, location."
And RBrown? You owe me a new shirt. I just snorted out coffee from reading the "frozen peas on your hoo-ha" comment. Hilarious!
i too have suffered the excrutiating pain of a BW. i too will never speak of it again. i have nightmares. i hate them. i'd rather have a large bush downtown than ever, ever, ever go back there again.
god love gillette.
ok, one more comment. when i had my de-virginization in the waxing parlor i noticed that they had tequila and whisky set out on a nice silver tray in the wiating area. hmm, that's weird, i thought.
i didn't think that 5 minutes later when i was writhing in utter pain and agony. note to self, always take tequila when offered. it's there for a reason.
Okay, well... I was considering the ole Brazilian wax until I read this post. I think I shall rock the Amazon-ish look I'm sporting now for a long time.
Go bush!
(the pubes not the pres.)
Y'all are scaring the hell out of me!
I'll stick to the razor.
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