Waxing Poetic

****The content below is for adults only; or for those that can handle direct language about body parts and the maintenance of said body parts.  If you are related to me, go to church with me, work with me or the hubs, come back later.****

First things first. I have never had to password protect a post. It seems, however, that the hubs thinks the content provided herein is not appropriate for all audiences. Word has it that my father in law has spread the word around town about my little piece of internet and now my damn priest reads the crap I write. I suppose the man of the house does have a valid point when he further mentions that some of his colleagues and my clients read the site too; I can only imagine what they would be thinking about at the next meeting after reading this. So in an effort to keep us both happy; we have protection. What I really wanted to tell hubs was to take off his panties and hose the sand out of his vagina.

Speaking of vaginas; well mine particularly. In all my years I have never waxed any part of my body. I am very fortunate to have not only very light hair but hair that grows very slowly. The down side to my good luck is that if I do not wear mascara, I look like a am nine years old at best. Imagine if you will, me at the age of twenty-nine with braces and no makeup; hubs felt a little awkward at times. He once came in the house to tell me the new neighbor girl had come over to ask if I could come out to play. He is so funny; just ask him, he will tell you.

Back to my vagina. For some reason I got a wild hair to get waxed. Many of you know that I am an all or nothing kind of girl though; if I am doing this I am going all the way. Brazilian baby. The first question I asked myself is whether I should go to someone I know, or a complete stranger. I determined a referral was more important than anything. I called one of my girlfriends and asked her advice. Having moved her business from a local salon to her home last year, she immediately sent me to her former place of business. She informed that the aesthetician was awesome and since I believe everything my friend/hair stylist tells me, I hung up and called the salon.

I had three days to wait after making the appointment. Your imagination can do a lot in three days. I was excited and petrified. My final thought was “how bad can it be really, you have given birth twice for god’s sake”. I wanted it to be a surprise for hubs so I did not tell him. The neurotic in me then starts thinking; “do I even want him to notice, that means I needed it”. We will get to his final reaction later.

Upon entering the salon on Friday and greet my girlfriends that work there and take some Advil; I had been told that doing so might be beneficial. This is one of those things I did to be safe and not sorry. I don’t know if I did not need it but I really did not want to find out if I needed it but didn’t take it.


The aesthetician greets me and escorts me to the servicing room. She explains the process and instructs me to disrobe from waste down and place a towel here and some paper there. I can do this. Towel here, paper there. The irony is that she leaves the room for me to undress but is about to explore places with a magnifying light the way only my gyno has done.

Upon examination and a test run it is determined my “front” hair is not long enough yet. Remember the fact that I am blessed with slow growing hair; it can suck at times. It also doesn’t help that I shave it all off anyway. No sweat. I am still a little nervous anyway and think I may back out of the back side if the front is agony. Kim proceeds to tell me to “hop up” on my hands and knees. The only way I can provide a visual for this position is to describe it as “child’s pose” in yoga but with your butt in the air. Or maybe a frog. The thing about this position is that is perfect for what she is doing, however, the wall that I am facing is all mirrors. Normally I would consider this hot, but in this scenario I do not care to watch, I lower my head.

So I have to admit that the hot wax was not bad; actually quite nice. I have the need to hold a conversation during this process in attempt to keep breathing. What I find out during the dialogue intrigues me. I live in what most would consider a conservative area of the country; otherwise known as “The Bible Belt”. My new best friend Kim moved here from Vegas five years ago and tells me she has seen things here that she never saw or even heard of in Springfield. How about that; I am not the only one in this town after all. I am not sure if that is good or bad.

Rip. Huh. Not so bad. Certainly not the vision from the 40 year old virgin I was imagining. “Blah Blah Blah”. “ Yeah I have two boys, 4 and 2.5; the picture of your girls is cute, how old?” Rip. How about that, it gets easier every time. Rip again. What the Hell! “Did you literally just rip me a new one?” She thought that was funny. Hubs is not the only funny one around here.  Like any quality aesthetician, Kim wants to be thorough, so out comes the lighted magnifying glass. Jesus; my gyno doesn’t even use a magnifying glass. She completes the examination of her work and sounding very proud says “looks great”. I have to take her word for it since I cannot see it. I am going to spare the details about how she applies the aloe in an attempt to prevent any male (or female for that matter) readers from getting entirely too excited about one woman rubbing cream all over another. That was the best part though.

I admit that I am happy I only have to do “maintain” every few months; but in end, hubs and I highly recommended this service.

As I am wrapping things up and paying, I asked Kim out to dinner; it seemed like the next step in our relationship.

*For those of you considering a Brazilian and are curious; there was little if any pain during or after the procedure!  Take off your panties and hose the sand out of your vagina and get it done!