Warning: This blog contains personal information regarding body waxing, extreme pain, and my hoo-ha. It is not for the faint of heart.
I've gotten bikini waxes. They hurt.
How much more could a Brazilian-Full-Monty-No-Muss-No-Fuss-Front-to-Back wax hurt?
A HELL OF A LOT MORE!!!
I have decided that I can no longer be trusted with myself. I need a conservator of my well-being. Someone who takes me gently by the hand and leads me back into the asylum.
I have been toying with the idea of getting a Brazilian for a long time. I've been getting bikini waxes for years, and Brazilians just seem like they would be so much more...um...thorough. Skimpy bikini here I come.
Four pant sizes later, I have no business wearing a skimpy bikini, much less subjecting some poor aesthetistician to my body contorted into all sorts of embarrassing positions. But I am going to Hilton Head and I want to be able to flounce around sans worries on the beach.
I figured it would be smart to test out the Brazilian before my vacation, in case I have some sort of bad reaction to it.
This is the last smart thought that I had.
Ben had already gotten me a full day of pampering at the spa. Massage, Facial, Eye Brow wax, Lip Wax, Pedicure, and Manicure. What a perfect opportunity to tack on the Brazilian I had always wanted to try?
What follows is an account of what happened in those hours at the spa. Names have been changed to protect the innocent.
Saturday morning I took three Tylenol extra strength tablets and headed off to Abu Ghraib...I mean the spa. After a lovely thirty minute massage with Sven, I figured I was plenty relaxed to survive the Brazilian like a pro. I was led into the facial room and Sadie the sadist, my aesthetistician, informed me that I would be getting all the waxing done first and then the facial. That way I could wind down after she was done.
Eye brows. Rip Rip Rip. No problem.
Upper lip. Rip Rip. Pointless. Fortunately, I don't really have that much hair on my upper lip, so she just removed the top layer of skin for no reason. Oh well, no biggie.
Now the moment of truth. I ask Sadie, "Does this hurt much worse than a regular bikini wax?"
Sadie replies, "Um..well...I have to be honest with you. I've never gotten one done myself before, so I don't know."
But I don't run. Instead I spread eagle and invite Sadie the Sadist to dive on in.
Now, in my mind, I had envisioned there was some way that these extreme waxers managed to remove every last hair without actually touching my most sensitive lady parts. I couldn't imagine how, and there is a reason...because there is no way to remove every last hair without actually touching my most sensitive lady parts. My gynecologist hasn't been that involved in my lady parts.
Now as mortifying as voluntarily being molested by a total stranger might seem, this thought really doesn't cross your mind. In fact, no thoughts cross your mind, because the amount of agonizing pain that you are in makes your eyes fog over and your brain bleed.
Think being smacked in the pubic region with a hair brush made of nails while making small talk...
For an hour and a half.
That's right, people.
One and one half hour.
I managed to make it through without crying, but that was probably only because I was unable to blink for over an hour. All of Sven's hard work grinding the myriad of knots out of my back, was completely wasted now. The facial might have been relaxing, had my groin area not felt like someone had just run over it with a lawn mower. As I sat in shock, while someone whose name I didn't even catch rubbed my feet and painted my nails, I glanced over at myself in the mirror. I looked like a newly released POW.
Sadie has assured me that if I get Brazilian's regularly that it will only take half an hour and be far less painful.
I am waiting to see if Brazilian's are indeed like child birth. If I somehow mysteriously forget all the pain, maybe I'll be back in a few weeks before my vacation.
The things women do in the name of beauty.
At least I have pretty toenails, while I rehab my hoo-ha.