The Terrors of a Brazilian Wax

Waxing season has officially kicked off. Although, if you’re a normal college girl you have a recurring appointment at your local hard wax salon with Rosa every 4 weeks because you’re getting action and need to look pristine. But, for those of us are not only going bald eagle for the men but also for the bikini season that is approaching, waxing season has hit the ground running. Now, if you’re anything like me #bitchy #fabulous and a #procrastinator, then you put your waxes off to the last second. It’s like either you man up and suffer the 30 minutes of pain or you’re going to the beach with a full on bush Miranda style in Sex and the City 2. Obviously, you choose the former and book an appointment ASAP so that you have no time to cancel. Next thing you know, Maria is calling your name and you’re legs up in the air getting the first layers of your skin waxed off. So how do you get passed the awkwardness of laying ass naked with your vagina purely exposed ready to be annihilated (which is usually a situation we like to be in but not when enduring a wax)

First, they call your name and the wax specialist introduces herself and shakes your hand. And you’re definitely thinking “OMG that hand is about to be in my ass and giving me more action than I’ve gotten in the past month.” You politely shake back and enter the room, at which point you drop your pants. I take off everything until I’m only in a t-shirt because man do I sweat on that thing. So much so that I tear through the paper on the bed (talk about awkward). The wax specialist proceeds to tell you about their “unique and sanitary technique” and you’re thinking alright, Lady let’s just get this over with. She applies the first coat and rips that baby off. Not too bad. As she creeps more towards the center it becomes even more painful. Finally, she does the exact center and you scream so loudly that Maria takes a step back and tells you to breathe in fast quick breaths (similar to how one does when giving birth). The touch ups aren’t so bad and then they say “I can’t get a couple of those stragglers, may I tweeze?” And you think “I’m paying $60 to get as bald as when I came out of the wound” so you reply yes. And then she tweezes and you immediately regret your decision. I’ll take the fucking straggles if you stop trying to kill me.

Just when you’re ready to get the fuck off the table, she moves to the rear end. Now, this is slightly awkward, and by slightly I mean really fucking strange like I don’t let anything go near that thing why are you touching it. The weirdest part about this is definitely the position that the person makes you do. I’ve gotten a wide variety like one person I legit thought she was trying to bone me. She had me on all fours (I was just waiting for a thrust but instead I just got a popsicle stick with hot wax…not so bad compared to some guys I’ve been with). Usually, it’s knees to your chest, which makes me feel like I’m back in Kingergarten gym class with a weird fucking twist. Regardless of positioning, this part is the best part. Painless in comparison to the front. I mean, it’s like the light at the end of the tunnel. Who knew I’d like it in the butt so badly?

Then the cooling gel comes and you’re like fuck yea, I survived another one and my vagina looks great. You get off the table only to realize you sweat so much that you tore the paper. Then the wax specialist makes a remark and you’re like really? A stranger was just putting hot wax on my skin and ripping out my hair on my vagina… you wouldn’t sweat? Like, talk about judgmental. You put on your clothes, your dignity comes back, and you walk out of that place feeling femme-fucking-tastic.

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